


Color by Numbers

by andquitefrankly



Series: Color Outside the Lines [2]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Because I can, M/M, Our kindergarten babies are all grown up, and by babies i mean like five and six, because they can, belladonna and freya plot together, bilbo is kili's teacher, but not right away, durin family ships them so hard, fili and kili are precious babies, i'll give you a second to let that sink in, i'm just really excited can you tell i'm excited?, kindergarten teacher bilbo, legolas and thorin are bros, thorin has the best job ever, thorin is a forest ranger
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-18
Updated: 2017-06-06
Packaged: 2018-02-09 09:09:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 46,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1977165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andquitefrankly/pseuds/andquitefrankly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to Color Me Mine.<br/>Thorin and Bilbo have grown up and grown apart. They have their own lives: family, work, friends. But when Bilbo becomes Kili's kindergarten teacher, the name Baggins begins to sound very, very familiar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Desert Sand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we are back! I'm really excited for this story, may I just say. I've got a lot of ideas and I've semi/planned them out. I've had this chapter on my computer for at least a month. So I've been preparing. Enjoy!

“Don’t you find it – well, odd?”

Gandalf gave him a look that conveyed that he did not find it odd in the least. Bilbo sighed, running a hand through his honey curls. He stepped further into the house, eyes flitting everywhere, not settling on a single spot.

It was strange to return to his childhood home. He suddenly felt five years old all over again, his paintings taped to the wall, his father in the garden and his mother calling him in for lunch. Now, the house was empty, vacated by its last owner some months earlier.

Bilbo found it all rather suspicious if he was being honest with himself. Gandalf swept his way back into his life, nattering on about his retirement, and suddenly Bilbo found himself with Gandalf’s old position, playing Kindergarten teacher to the same school he had given four years of his early educational life to. And now here he was in the house that had been his home for those same years. What did Gandalf do? Threaten the previous owners?

“I don’t know, Gandalf,” Bilbo finally said, flapping his arms against his side anxiously. “It’s rather big for just me.”

“Nonsense!” Gandalf exclaimed, putting his arm around the younger man. “You said you wanted someplace just like your old house. And I have delivered.”

Bilbo huffed, maneuvering his way out of Gandalf’s grasp. “I didn’t literally mean my childhood home. I meant someplace… familiar, I suppose.”

Gandalf was silent, a pensive look on his face. “This is familiar.”

“Homey, small, something comfortable,” Bilbo continued. “I can’t buy this house, Gandalf. I cannot and I will not. End of discussion.” Bilbo nodded his head in affirmation.

* * *

Thorin was in that state between sleep and awake where he knew in the back of his mind it was probably in his best interest to get out of bed, but he was so warm and comfortable, he couldn’t help but lay there for a few minutes more. And if it hadn’t been for his loud and boisterous nephews, he would have.

But in they dashed, slamming his bedroom door open and jumping atop him, all squeals and giggles. “Wake up!” Kili cried, putting his grubby hands on Thorin’s cheeks and trying to open his eyelid. Thorin merely grunted, even as Fili rolled on his back.

“Uncle,” Fili pouted, taking a spot beside Kili and moving Thorin’s hair out of his face. Both boys leaned forwards, heads pressed against one another, glaring at their sleeping uncle.

Suddenly Thorin opened his eyes and both boys shrieked as Thorin let out a yell, picking up his nephews and holding them close to his chest. Fili and Kili kicked and squirmed, trying desperately to get out of his reach, but it was to no avail. They were trapped.

“Stop wasting time,” Dis scolded, standing in the doorway. Thorin let his nephews go and the boys hopped out of bed, placing sloppy kisses on Thorin’s face as they ran out of the room, shoving each other.

Thorin sat up, running a hand through his messy hair, blinking at his sister. “God, what time is it?” he asked, yawning loudly.

“It’s the first day of school,” Dis said instead, wrinkling her nose as Thorin sat up, baring his naked chest. “Get dressed.”

* * *

“Stand still,” Thorin muttered as he fidgeted with the camera Dis had thrust into his hands. She had bought one of those new ones recently and Thorin couldn’t figure out what half those buttons did.

The camera lifted to his eye, he used his other hand to motion the boys together. Fili was half carrying Kili, his shirt pulled up to reveal his tummy. Thorin grinned as he told them, “Say pterodactyl.”

Kili struggled heartily with the word while Fili laughed at him. Thorin took the picture and the boys jumped atop him once more, fighting one another to get a clear look. Thorin held the camera above his head and handed it off to Dis. “Get these beasts off of me,” he gruffed.

Dis swatted him, kneeling to show her boys. “This is actually good,” she said.

“Shut it,” Thorin responded, pouring himself a cup of coffee. He ran a hand over his stubble, cringing at the feel of it. Maybe he shouldn’t have skipped the shave that morning. “Vallis still sleeping?”

“There was a car crash down on Main around midnight,” Dis told him. “He didn’t get in till two.”

Thorin nodded, biting into a piece of stale bread. He spit it out with a grimace as Dis laughed. “Don’t forget you’re taking the boys to school.”

“Why me?”

“Because unlike you, I have a real job.”

“I have a very important job,” Thorin told her, the argument a familiar one. "Why don't you wake up your husband? He's missing out on memories."

“Uncle!” Kili cried, standing in the doorway wearing Thorin’s uniform jacket. “I’m a forest ranger just like you!” He spun around in a circle, the green sleeves flapping in the air as Fili stepped on one of the sleeves, causing Kili to fall. “Hey!” he yelled, picking himself up off the floor and tackling his brother.

A flash interrupted the scene and Dis showed Thorin the amusing photo of her boys wrestling in the hall. Thorin grabbed his keys before pulling the boys apart. “Alright monsters. Time for school!”

The boys scrambled off one another, running towards Thorin’s beat up station wagon. “Shotgun!” Fili cried.

“You’re in the back,” Thorin told him, opening the back door.

Dis kissed each boy on the cheek as she buckled them in. Patting the driver’s door, she leaned into the window and told Thorin, “Make sure to put out all forest fires today, big bro.”

“I will bite you.”

Dis cackled as they drove away.

* * *

Bilbo sat in his classroom, head in hands.

He bought the house.

He wasn’t quite sure how Gandalf had done it, but done it he had. Bilbo found himself signing the papers and holding the keys to the house he had lived in over twenty years ago not two days before. Of course Gandalf had convinced him. The man was practically a wizard.

Looking at the clock, Bilbo rose and headed towards the playground, grabbing his sign with: **K-1 Mr. Baggins** , written in large letters.

Now was not the time to worry about his own personal issues. Though he knew the moment he told his mother, she’d laugh for hours. She’d probably be at his doorstep by the end of the day, demanding he let her help him move in. And then she’d drag his poor father along and Aule knew he’d lose himself in trying to rebuild the garden.

The sound of high pitched screams greeted Bilbo as he stepped into the courtyard where dozens of boys of all ages ran around, dirtying their school clothes. He glanced at his fellow teachers who already looked harried and tired. It was going to be a long school year.

Glancing at his watch once more, Bilbo felt he’d give his students a few more minutes before he started wrangling them in. Planting his sign into the dirt, Bilbo took a step back and watched the children.

They had revamped the playground since he had attended all those years ago. The woodchips had been replaced with a giant rubber mat, and the metal and wooden slide, swings, bridges, and monkey bars had been torn down to make way for a more child friendly plastic monstrosity. Bilbo wasn’t usually nostalgic, but he was saddened by this.

He had some wonderful memories of his times on this playground.

Bilbo blushed at that thought, coughing awkwardly despite being alone.

It was then he spotted two boys with long hair put up into sloppy ponytails, one with blonde hair, the other a brunette, hop out of an old car. The blonde, the eldest no doubt, nodded at the driver and waved goodbye as the car pulled away. He then pulled on his brother’s hand, leading him towards the line of teachers.

The boys whispered amongst themselves before the younger one stepped forward and headed straight towards Bilbo. “Hi,” the boy greeted, a smile plastered on his face. “I’m Kili!”

He extended his hand and Bilbo felt obligated to take it. “I’m Mr. Baggins, Kili,” Bilbo told him. “I don’t suppose you’re in my class…” Bilbo grabbed his class list and scanned it, eyes falling on the name: Kili Lombard.

Bilbo smiled down at the boy. “Yes, you are. Welcome to K-1.” Kili waved at his brother who made a face, walking towards his own teacher.

“Mr. Boggins?” Kili asked, hands playing with the straps of his backpack.

“Baggins,” Bilbo corrected, tutting silently at the state of Kili’s laces. The boy was bound to fall over himself. He was going to teach shoe tying right off, Bilbo thought to himself.

Kili nodded. “Mr. Baggins,” he amended. “Are we gonna learn about dinosaurs?”

“Dinosaurs?” Bilbo asked. “Not today.”

“I love dinosaurs,” Kili mumbled.

“Maybe later in the year,” Bilbo reassured him, just as one of the older teachers began blowing a whistle, calling the children to line. Kili soon got lost in the shuffle of the other thirteen boys in his class.

Later that night, once Bilbo was tucked in bed, drifting off to sleep in what was once his parent’s room, he couldn’t help but find Kili’s face, and love for dinosaurs, rather familiar.


	2. Wild Blue Yonder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Run in at a book store and Thorin's a sap when it comes to his nephews. It's okay Bilbo. Breathe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the song playing in the book store that Bilbo's grooving along to is:[Julie, Do You Love Me](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f7PLcHnMNKE) by Bobby Sherman.

Thorin stood at the printer, hands on his hips, glaring at the temperamental machine. He would give it a good swift kick if he was certain Beorn wasn’t going to suddenly burst into the office and send him out on garbage duty.

With school back in session, the park would be emptier than usual, relieving the regular park goers from the shrieking children and crowded paths. That also meant that there was a rush the day before to have as much fun as possible before school officially started, and most of the picnic areas were a mess. Thorin knew he’d have to go out there eventually, but for now, he was hiding.

He got enough grief from his siblings about his job. He didn’t need a  cleanup assignment to mull over how right they actually were.

Not to say he didn’t like his job; he loved it. But his sister was a curator at the Erebor Art Museum and her husband, Vallis, was an anesthesiologist in intensive care. Plus his damned brother was a mechanical engineer. Compared to them, Thorin was frolicking through the fields picking daisies and weaving flower crowns for bunny rabbits.

He’d like to see them put out a fire or keep their cool when confronted with a bear. Not that Thorin ever confronted a bear. But he was trained in those types of scenarios so he knew what to do _if_ that should ever occur.

Why he suddenly changed degrees halfway through school, his family didn’t quite understand. Especially when it was from paleontology to environmental science. He argued they weren't all that different.

The number of jokes that he was the butt of were plentiful.

But he woke up one day and felt that as much as he wanted to discover a brand new dinosaur – luckily, his childhood obsession of dinosaurs grew into a healthy interest in discovery – he felt that he could do some greater good in this world doing something else. He wandered Erebor Park one morning after a night of tossing and turning and breathed in the crisp, fresh air.

He felt like he could spend the rest of his life on these mountains, hike the trails, preserving nature and protecting wildlife. It was then that he decided. And if he had an inkling in the back of his mind of a childhood promise, then that was his own secret.

So here he was, working as a forest ranger at Erebor Park – all 762 square miles. The entire park was his office, his domain. And he loved every minute of it, despite how many times his younger siblings teased him.

Thorin got to spend his days doing what he loved most: discovering. Whether it was a through the eyes of a child or with his fellow colleagues, he honestly had the best job in the world.

But right now, he felt like throwing the damn printer out of the window, consequences be damned.

“Durin!” came a bellow and Thorin cringed, hurriedly pressing the power button on the printer, hoping it’d suddenly remember how to work and he could make a mad dash out of there. Unfortunately, fate was not on his side. Beorn stormed into the office, a giant smile in place.  

The man wrapped his bear like arm around Thorin, knuckling his head with the other hand. “I’ve found you,” he laughed as Thorin shoved him aside. "I've got a job for you."

Thorin might be considered a large man compared to most people, but Beorn was a giant among men. And he enjoyed riling Thorin up. “Good morning,” Thorin grumbled, just as the printer came to life. Beorn turned his attention to the image slowly coming to life. “Shut up,” Thorin threatened, not wanting to hear how precious his boss thought he was.

“It’s the Durin cubs,” Beorn nearly squealed. He had a soft spot for the boys, allowing them to climb all over him like a jungle gym. The first time Thorin introduced his nephews to his boss, he was admittedly hesitant. Beorn looked like he ate small children for breakfast.

Of course, Beorn was the type of fellow who doted on small children despite his rough exterior. The same could be said for Thorin. Or anyone Thorin was friends with.

Which was why it was always a surprise when people snuck a peak into the Erebor Park offices and saw a wall filled with images of small children right behind Thorin’s desk. Truthfully, most of them were of Fili and Kili, sometimes with their friends, but others were of the kids who’d taken Thorin’s adventure and wildlife class. The wall of pictures melted the hearts of all single mothers and not so single ones. The amount of dates Thorin had been asked out on could not be counted without a heavy duty calculator.

The picture being printed out now was one Dis had taken of the boys the day before while they spent their last day of summer at Dwalin’s pool. Dwalin was in the background, making a face, while Thorin and the boys were showing off their muscles to the camera.

It was a bit beefcake, but the expressions of the boys was too precious that he could just pretend he wasn't in the photo at all. Besides, it was proof that he wasn’t just randomly stalking his nephews. Taking the photograph and looking for a blank piece of wall, Thorin thought maybe it was a bit much. He could take a few photos down but… well he liked them all too much.

“Cubs in school?” Beorn asked, starting the coffee machine.

Thorin nodded. “Kili starts kindergarten today.” He grabbed a piece of tape and decided to tape the photo to his computer monitor. He grinned to himself.

Perfect. 

* * *

Bilbo wasn’t sure when he decided to go into teaching. He was never particularly drawn to it.

When he was a child he was certain he’d become a famous painter, like Manet or Rembrandt. His mother had bought him a beret for his seventh birthday because he had told her that all the great artists wore them. He wore it everywhere for two weeks before a strong gust of wind came and took his beret with it.

Belladonna bought him another one but made Bilbo promise to wear it only when he was painting.

Bilbo always liked his teachers. They were smart and reasonable and were always willing to talk to him when he was having trouble with school work. It also probably helped that his parent’s closest friend was a teacher himself.

There were plenty of evenings spent on the front porch, listening to Gandalf and his mother chat away. He always had wonderful stories to tell of his students, and perhaps that’s when Bilbo decided that teaching was just as glamorous as being a painter.

And Bilbo was glad for it.

Sometimes running a classroom of over excitable five year olds could get stressful, but Bilbo found it to be fun. Children were so open to learning. Their questions were endless, their smiles refreshing, their eagerness motivating.

Tidying his once organized classroom, Bilbo decided to do a bit of shopping on his way home. He could do with a few more books for the boys. And perhaps a few for himself. Either way, he’d drop by the bookstore, and perhaps buy some tea while he was there.

* * *

Thorin was pleased to know that the picking up of his nephews was not his responsibility. Considering how he was bullied into the job that morning, he thought it was only right Frerin had to pick up the monsters.

He should have known that when his sister asked him to spend the night, it was only so he could play chauffeur to the heathens. Though he did get to give the boys a pep talk. And managed to get Fili to promise not to just abandon his brother on the playground like Thorin did on Frerin’s first day of school. The spanking he got made sure he never forgot that family came before throwing rocks at pigeons with his friends.

He stretched as he stepped out of his car, patting the old station wagon affectionately as he slammed the door shut, heading towards his favorite bookstore. He felt like spoiling his nephews.

* * *

When Bilbo was a boy he used to run into the child section of bookstores, crawling under tables and nabbing books, squirreling away in some corner as he lost himself in a world of bright colors and anthropomorphic animals.

Even now he felt an overwhelming ease fall upon him as he stepped into the child section, the painted trees on the walls and the colorful rugs reaffirming Bilbo’s belief that reading was the greatest world builder. He pushed in chairs and lifted books and toys onto the tables out of habit as he made his way to the picture book aisle.

He was hoping they had the pigeon books. He always seemed to lose those, and his students loved those books. Something about that rascally pigeon just drew them in.

Humming along to the music playing over the speakers, Bilbo browsed the books, hips swinging slightly in tune to the song. He paused every so often, picking a book and browsing it. He never quite read it because he liked to be as surprised as the students.

“Julie, Julie, Julie, do you love me,” Bilbo sang along, pausing a moment to laugh at a book with a horrible looking creature on the cover. “My Teacher is a Monster,” he read, chuckling to himself and adding it to his growing pile, returning to singing and swaying.

He went through the books, dancing theatrically, yet modestly down the rows. Seeing as he was completely alone, he didn’t see a reason to restrain himself. After all, choosing books for his boys was probably going to be the highlight of his week.

“Are you thinking of me?” Bilbo sang, putting his hands to his heart and shaking his shoulders, making a pouty face as he grabbed a book, turning around to add it to his pile only to look dead in the eyes of  a stranger.

Bilbo yelped, dropping the book completely and stumbling backwards, nearly knocking over the bookshelf. “The Green Lady’s knickers!” Bilbo blurted, adrenaline coursing through his veins as he stared at the bearded stranger who merely stared back.

“I’m sorry,” the man finally said as he knelt to pick up the book Bilbo dropped. He graciously handed it over, chuckling at the cover. “My nephews love those books,” he tried, pointing at the dirty pigeon on the cover.

Oh dear, he was trying small talk. Now was not a good time for small talk. Please go away, Bilbo's eyes screamed. “Yes,” Bilbo responded, accepting the book.

They looked at one another just a little bit longer, ears tinged pink.

Bilbo coughed. “Yes, well, thank you.”

“I am sorry, I should have let you know I was here,” he tried, no doubt attempting to make Bilbo feel better. It didn’t work. At all. The anguish that was bubbling up in Bilbo was too much.

“No, it’s fine,” Bilbo muttered, gathering his books and getting the hell out of dodge. Did he really say the Green Lady's knickers? Oh, Aule strike him down from shame. 

* * *

Frerin laughed hysterically over the phone. “Oh god, Thorin. Only you would scare a poor man out of his wits in a bookstore.”

Thorin grumbled as he struggled with his car keys. “He was dancing, Frerin. What was I suppose to do?”

“Dance with him?” Frerin suggested.

Thorin sighed, running a hand through is hair. “I never should have told you.” He should have just not answered his phone. He could hear Fili and Kili screaming in the background.

He finally managed to get the door open and threw himself into the car.

“Brother,” Frerin asked.

“What?”

“Was he at least cute?”

Thorin ended the call and threw his phone in the back seat of the car. He really didn’t like his brother at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AUGH! They've met! Can I just say, that song would make me dance in a bookstore without shame. Bilbo, you gotta own it. The books that he's looking for ([the pigeon books](http://www.amazon.com/Pigeon-Needs-Bath-Mo-Willems/dp/1423190874/ref=la_B001JRXJX8_sp-atf_title_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1406439350&sr=1-1)) are totally real. They're by Mo Willems and I love them to death, as does my little sister. She memorized the ones I bought for her. And now my mama bear calls me pigeon because... well... I am literally that pigeon (if you saw me around cookies you would understand). If you know any small children, I highly recommend them. Also the monster book is also real. I haven't read it, but it looks cute. 
> 
> Also, I just wanted to let you know this takes place... 25-30 years after their kindergarten wedding. So they're in their early to mid 30s. Who else loves sappy forest ranger Thorin? He's basically a big, awkward, marshmallow. With a beard. (i'm working on his characterization. i've only written baby thorin)
> 
> I think... that is all! Yay! If I'm a little behind on comments, I apologize. I'm backlogged and a little spacey, so I apologize. But your excitement and enthusiasm is great! It keeps me going, so thank you! Also, WHEN ARE WE GOING TO GET THE BOTFA TRAILER AM I RIGHT?!?  
> Aardvark!


	3. Spruce

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dancing in bookstores isn't that embarrassing, though it does make for great dinner conversation. No one eats their vegetables.

Bilbo banged his head against his steering wheel. The Green Lady’s knickers? _A-plus cursing right there, Baggins_.

That was it. He was never going to return to The Lonely Bookstore ever again. He’d just have to find a new bookstore. Somewhere a little closer to home. Somewhere he can never run into the tall, dark, stranger ever again.

Yes. Perfect plan.

Bilbo let out a breath in attempt to calm his nerves. He could do this. Simple. He glanced briefly at the books he had bought in a rush, the ones he tossed onto his passenger street. He didn’t even get a chance to fully consider his purchases. Chances are he bought some terrible books.

A knock on his window drew Bilbo out of his mind. He accidentally punched his horn, causing him to flinch at the sound.

Gandalf merely waggled his fingers in greeting. Bilbo begrudgingly lowered his window.

“Yes?” he asked.

“How was your first day, my boy?”

Bilbo rolled his window back up and resumed banging his head against the steering wheel. Gandalf could stand in his driveway all day for all Bilbo cared.

* * *

“Tell them about the guy in the bookstore,” Frerin offered up as dinner conversation starter.

Thorin knew he should have just kept his mouth shut.

His family all looked up at him from across the dinner table, catching him as he tried pushing the broccoli  off his plate and onto his napkin.

A smile slowly spread across Dis’ face. “Did you meet someone?” she asked, eyebrow raised as if it were cluing in on juicy gossip. So involved in Thorin’s barely living love life, she didn’t notice her boys copying their uncle in their attempts to get rid of their broccoli.

“I did not meet anyone,” Thorin replied, looking sternly at Fenrir.

“Because you didn’t ask for his number,” Frerin argued. He pushed his plate aside to put up his elbows. “So get this – ”

“Please don’t,” Thorin tried, but Frerin ploughed on, retelling the story as if he had been there himself.

“What did he yell again?” Frerin asked, tears of laughter streaming down his face.

Thorin looked to the ceiling and asked Mahal what he did to deserve this. “Green Lady’s knickers,” Thorin growled.

The entire family burst into laughter – Fili and Kili more so because everyone else was doing it – as Thorin stabbed at his pork cutlet. “How was school?” Thorin asked, hoping to change the subject.

“Oh, come on,” Dis chuckled. “You’ve got to admit, it’s funny.”

It was not funny. Thorin nearly gave the man a heart attack. He was rather certain the man would have toppled over a bookcase had the bookcases not been so sturdy. The look of utter fright on his face was – familiar. Thorin shook his head.

“School?” he repeated, catching Kili trying to squash his broccoli in his napkin. Kili gave him a guilty smile, carefully placing the broccoli back on his plate.

“It was fine,” Fili answered, staring pointedly at his own uncle. There was no hiding anything from this kid. Thorin slowly forked up a piece of broccoli and shoved it into his mouth. “Yuck,” Fili responded, scrunching up his face in disgust, shoving his broccoli away. Kili copied him.

“Gotta eat your vegetables, kiddo,” Vallis told them.

Kili sniffed his veggies. Nope. He most certainly wasn’t going to eat that. Not today. Vallis shot Thorin a pleading look. Thorin sighed. “Yum,” he said with forced cheer.

“We’re not dumb, Uncle,” Fili responded.

“Yeah,” Kili echoed.

“How was school?” Thorin tried again, this time looking at Kili.

He beamed, bouncing up and down in his seat. “COOL!” Kili exclaimed. “Mr. Boggins is really nice and he has a pet turtle named Smeagol and we can play with him only during recess except he’s mean and likes to bite except he didn’t bite me he bit Gimli. Gimli’s in my class! He was supposed to be in the other class but he got moved over and now I have a friend which is good because I thought I was going to be all alone. We played games and went over the alphabet and I knew it better than everyone else cause you taught it to me, remember Ma? And Mr. Boggins gave me a sticker cause I was soooo good.” Kili smiled at them all, finally taking a breath, pointing to the smiling bear sticker on his shirt.

His family just stared at him in amazement. “Yeah? Well we have a class bunny!” Fili blurted out, not wanting to be left out.

“Do not!” Kili shouted, which erupted an argument between the boys. Thorin  downed his cranberry juice, hoping to wash away the taste of broccoli, glad for once that his nephews were fighting, if only because they took the attention off of him.

* * *

Boxes upon unopened boxes still lay untouched in every room, scattered and precariously stacked, wobbling every time Bilbo walked past. Bilbo sighed softly as he picked up another box and set it on his kitchen table.

He never realized he had so much stuff until he had to put it all away in boxes. Throwing things away was not an option, and so Bilbo found himself boxing up paintings from his childhood, papers from university, movie stubs from first dates, and old sweaters that didn’t fit him now, but didn’t want to get rid of. He even found an old stuffed dinosaur toy he recalled an old friend had given him when he moved away.

Bilbo couldn’t remember his name, but he recalled being rather enamored of the little boy. Bilbo had blushed as a rush of memories surged back. Oh dear, he really had been in love, hadn’t he.

But now that all his belongings were strewn about his new home, he couldn’t be arsed to unpack a single box. He didn’t want to do this alone. All those memories and not a single one to share with anyone.

He could call his mother. The Valar knew she’d be here before he could hang up the phone, but he wanted to do this alone. He wanted to set up his home before his mother could swoop in and poke fun and laugh at his sentimentality. He really hadn’t meant to buy the house but Gandalf was so damn persuasive.

And speaking of Gandalf, that old meddler dropped by for a cup of tea and dashed right back out, not even blinking as Bilbo told him of the stranger who had caught him dancing like an idiot at the bookstore. The job was fine. The job he could handle. Gandalf didn’t have to worry about that.

What Gandalf – what everyone – should worry about was his damn love life. Or rather, lack thereof. Bilbo had always had bad luck in love.

When he was fifteen he went out with a boy who was dating him because of a bet. When he was nineteen he fell head over heels for his creative writing professor who had no qualms against cheating on his wife for a student. When he was twenty six his boyfriend would say he had work on Saturday but was actually a gambling addict and spent those days at an underground casino.

There were always a few men who weren’t so… horrible. They were though they were devoted. sweet and nice and treated Bilbo well, but Bilbo could never find himself falling in love with them.

So here he was, thirty four years old, single, living completely alone, and making a fool of himself in public. And in front of a handsome man too.

Bilbo grabbed his pen knife and stabbed his box open. Stabbing was very good for frustration. He was certain he had read that somewhere.

* * *

Thorin threw his wrinkled uniform into a laundry basket, happy to be home after a long three days at his sister’s house. He loved Dis, and he loved the boys, but three days was too long away from the nice and quiet of his home.

He opened the fridge and pulled out a beer, throwing himself onto the couch. He deserved it. Especially with having to put up with Frerin and his teasing. No matter how old Thorin got, his siblings were still as annoying as ever.

He grabbed the remote and turned on the television, setting the volume low enough to be a soft murmur. Thorin closed his eyes and let himself drift off.

For all the teasing, Thorin felt a little bad for the man in the bookstore. He probably thought he was all alone, and there Thorin was, spying on him.

Spying wasn’t the right word. More like… like… caught unawares. What was a person supposed to do in a situation like that? Perhaps he could have coughed or made some noise to inform the man he was there, but to be perfectly honest, Thorin had enjoyed watching him.

A bright flush spread over his chest and neck, barely noticeable beneath his tanned skin. The man had been lost in his own world, enjoying the little things in life. Thorin could never be as free spirited as that. The most free he ever got was hiking the mountains of Erebor.

Up there he could breathe easier. There was no one demanding things of him. He didn’t have to be anything he didn’t want to be.

And yet there was this small man, clearly pleased as punch to be shopping for books, probably for his own children, though Thorin would easily admit he was slightly jealous. He was a very attractive man, with golden curls and a plump – Thorin opened his eyes, stopping his brain from going any further.

He needed to go to sleep. Right now. Thorin downed his beer and trudged to his bedroom. Sleep. That was what he needed.

* * *

Kili and Gimli sat at their table, enthusiastically listening to Bilbo read a story to the class. Kili was certain that he had found his one true love.

Mr. Boggins was perfect in every single way.

He had a nice smile and read good and gave stickers as prizes and never shouted. Kili wondered how old he’d have to be in order to marry Mr. Boggins. He had to at least be Fili’s age. Fili was very grown up compared to Kili.

As Mr. Boggins waved them off, Kili ran to his mother, a wide smile on his face.

“What’re you so happy about?” Fili asked, watching his mother buckle Kili into his car seat.

“I’m going to marry Mr. Boggins,” he announced.

Fili laughed at Kili. “You can’t marry Mr. Boggins.”

“Why not?” Kili asked.

“Cause he’s a teacher,” Fili explained. “And teachers never leave school.”

That did make things just a little difficult. But just the same, Kili was determined. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to post this yesterday but I got lazy, and then our internet was crapola for most of today. But I finally have this chapter up!  
> So I don't think it's the best chapter, but it gets my point across. Writing Thorin is soooo hard. I preferred him as a precious baby. I think we're gonna have our favorite meddling mothers next chapter, but don't hold me to it.  
> Also it's taking me a while to catch up with comments. Sorry. I'll get there eventually.  
> Aardvark!


	4. Cerise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo makes a very important call about a certain crush. Unfortunately, the Mr. and Mrs. Lombard isn't home. However, a Mr. Durin is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to go up yesterday but I got distracted so I give you gratuitous fluff, peppered with oblivious losers. You're welcome.

Bilbo understood children. He worked with them daily, so honestly if he didn't understand them he'd be rather bad at his job. He'd been at it for years, knowing just how hard it is to move and leave your friends behind, how to comfort a child whose parents were separating, always finding the perfect solution to a fight. He was practically a genius.

The only situation he had never had experience with, however, was what to do when a student was so clearly enamored of him.

Kili was… enthusiastic.

He had a habit of sticking to Bilbo like glue and while it was certainly charming, it was beginning to be a bit of a problem. The boy had purposefully spilled his paint all over Elladan's self portrait when Bilbo praised the art piece. And it was only the second week of school!

So Bilbo did what he hated doing. He called the parents.

What was he even going to say? "Ah, yes, hello, your son Kili sabotaged another student's art work so I'd pay attention to him. He also proposed to me. Twice."

Bilbo wanted nothing more than to lie on the floor and pray that the whole crush thing blew over. Unfortunately that wasn't possible. The sooner he nipped this in the bud, the better. He like Kili. He was a sweet boy, but he had to be made aware that his actions were not appropriate. Bilbo was his teacher, and should not by any means have favorites.

He hummed to himself nervously, waiting for someone on the other end to pick up.

"Hello?" came the gruff reply and Bilbo sat up in his seat. No sleeping on the job. He just needed to talk to them, that's all. Simple.

* * *

"Yes, hello. Is this the Lombard residence?"

Thorin nodded. He could hear the television playing loudly in the other room, and he put his hand on the mouthpiece as he yelled, "Put that down. You're not deaf." The volume automatically lowered and he grinned in triumph.

"Hello?" the man on the line repeated. "Is this – "

"Yes," Thorin answered. "This is them."

A relieved sigh came over the line and Thorin waited for the man on the line to get on with his business. If this was a telemarketer of some sort, Thorin was going to hang up. He had two rascally children to watch and he didn't have time to deal with some man trying to sell him a new phone service or some aerobic exercise DVD.

"Good evening, Mr. Lombard. I'm Mr. Baggins, Kili's teacher," Mr. Baggins said.

Thorin pulled the phone away from his ear and looked suspiciously at the telephone. His teacher?

Kili ran into the room, pouting as he held tightly to the movie case in his hand. Spying his uncle on the phone, he lit up. "Who is it?" he asked, jumping up and down, trying to grab the phone away from Thorin.

"Stop it," Thorin said, swatting Kili lightly away and holding the phone above his head. "Did you wash your hands?"

"Yeap," Kili replied, holding out his hands for his uncle to examine, the movie tucked under his armpit. "Is it Ma? Is it? Tell her I said hi."

"It's your teacher," Thorin answered, putting the phone back to his ear. Hopefully Mr. Baggins wasn't blabbering on while he was distracted. "Look, I'm sorry about the – "

"Mr. Boggins!" Kili exclaimed. He hopped up and down, trying to climb Thorin.

Thorin put his hand on Kili's head and kept him an arm's length away. "What did you come in here for with that sad face?" he asked instead, hoping to distract Kili and praying this Boggins was at least doing something to occupy himself, seeing as he couldn't have a decent phone conversation.

Kili looked blankly at Thorin, stopping his struggling. "Oh!" he remembered. "Can we have pizza for dinner?"

"No," Thorin responded. "I already ordered Chinese. I even got those noodles you like so much."

Fili ran into the room, wrapping his arms around Kili. "Uncle, Kili says he doesn't want to watch The Jungle Book."

Kili glared at his brother. That's what the sad face was for. They just had to fight about this. "We always watch The Jungle Book," Kili pouted. "I want to watch Toy Story!" He held out his movie for Thorin to look at.

Thorin groaned. He'd watched both films countless times. "Can't we watch something else?" he practically begged. "Like Iron Giant? Or that El Dorado film. You like those." Anything but Toy Story and The Jungle Book. He'd rather get a root canal than watch those movies for the thousandth time.

"Uncle!" they whined.

Oh god, the unison whine. No. "Give me a moment, please," he spoke into the phone. He set the phone down and lifted both boys by their middle, each dangling from under his arms. They squealed in laughter as they were transported back to the living room.

They were dropped onto the couch and Thorin looked them straight in the eye. "I'm trying to speak on the phone. You two sort this out yourselves," he ordered. "And no yelling or hitting or throwing things. And no name calling. You either decide before I come back or I get to watch the match, while you sit there bored out of your minds, you understand?"

Both boys nodded glumly as Thorin rushed out of the room. He grabbed the phone and asked, "Hello? Mr. Boggins?"

* * *

Bilbo nearly dropped the phone as he heard Mr. Lombard speak into it. "Yes, yes, I'm here," he sputtered, setting aside the lesson plan he was looking over as the man was badgered by his boys.

There was an awkward cough over the line, no doubt Kili's father embarrassed by the lack of conversation they were able to get through. There was a soft thudding, but Bilbo brushed the sound aside. No need to point it all out.

"I really am sorry to disturb you Mr. Lombard," Mr. Baggins continued. "I can tell you're busy, but I did want to discuss Kili's behavior in class today."

"Durin," Thorin replied.

"Pardon?"

"I'm their uncle. Mother's brother," Mr. Durin clarified. "Kili's parents are out at the moment."

"Oh," Bilbo said. He honestly just wanted to quietly discuss Kili's behavior but now it seemed he'd have to try to catch them on Monday when they picked up Kili. "Do you know a good time to call, it really is a quick little thing but I felt it had to be discussed."

Mr. Durin was silent for a brief moment. "You said he was misbehaving?" he asked.

Bilbo nodded, despite the fact that Kili's uncle couldn't see him. "I'm not sure if you're aware, but Kili has developed a bit of an attachment to me."

* * *

A series of moments flashed before Thorin's eyes, each of them involving Kili screaming "Boggins!" at the top of his lungs and then waxing lyrical on the amazingness that was his kindergarten teacher.

Not bearing witness to Thorin's flashbacks, Mr. Baggins continued: "Not that that is worrisome. I find that many young children extend their admiration to their teachers and such, especially when beginning school. Not to say that I encourage it, but Kili really oughtn't be punished for his crush.

"Earlier this afternoon we were painting self portraits – Kili is very talented, I must say – and in a fit of jealousy he purposefully spilled his paints over the art work of a fellow student.

"I had to speak with the young boy's parents when school ended, as he was rather upset, but I did want to discuss with you – well, Kili's parents, actually – about this," Mr. Baggins finished.

Thorin groaned, running a hand down his face. Of course Kili would act out. The boy was practically spoiled at home. "I'm really sorry about that," Thorin said. "I'll make sure to let Dis know."

"Thank you," Mr. Baggins responded. "If I could speak with Mrs. Lombard on Monday, I would very much appreciate it."

"I'll relay the message."

"Thank you very much, Mr. Durin," Mr. Baggins practically beamed over the telephone. "I hope you have a wonderful evening."

"You too, Mr. Boggins," Thorin said before hanging up the phone.

* * *

Bilbo frowned at the telephone. "It's Baggins," he muttered under his breath. "Not Boggins."


	5. Sunglow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freya and Belladonna enter the scene. Parents will always guilt trip you no matter how old you are.

 Bilbo grimaced as his mother squeezed his cheeks together, lips puckered like a fish. “You’re hurting me,” he complained.

Belladonna let him go, swatting away his complaint, used to his whining. As far as she was concerned, Bilbo was still her little baby and no matter how old he got, she was going to fuss over him.

“You’ve lost weight,” she tutted. “Bungo, he’s lost weight!” She called out to her husband who was inspecting the dead garden. Belladonna sent him a devoted look before pinching Bilbo’s cheek once more. “I’m going to make you a cake.”

She bustled past Bilbo, toeing off her shoes as she admired the house she once owned.

Aule above, he was going to get a headache, he just knew it. “Dad,” Bilbo called. Bungo looked up from his mental planning. “How ‘bout some tea?”

“Brilliant idea,” Bungo smiled. He slowly creaked up the steps, ruffling Bilbo’s curls as they met at the door. “I can’t believe you bought this old place.”

“Neither can I,” Bilbo muttered.

The two men followed the sound of puttering from the kitchen, only to find Belladonna with her sleeves rolled up and a bowl full of cake batter. “Where’s your whisk?”

“What are you doing?” Bilbo asked. Belladonna looked up from her task. She thought it was pretty obvious what she was doing. “You can’t just start baking willy nilly!”

Belladonna heaved a motherly sigh and said in slow words, “Bilbo, honey, someone needs to take care of you,” and then proceeded to raid his kitchen cabinets.

Bungo clapped his hands together. “How about that tea?” he asked, opening another cabinet.

Bilbo took a deep breath and resigned himself to a day of parental pampering.

* * *

“Define: wanted to speak to me,” Dis greeted as she dropped off the boys for their wilderness class.

Fili and Kili were already running around with the other children, getting their jeans muddy and leaves stuck in their hair. It was one of the few times Dis didn’t care how dirty they got as Thorin’s class usually tired them out so much they were dead on their feet for at least two hours afterwards. The peace and quiet was worth the extra soaking she’d give their clothes.

Thorin scratched at his beard. Once Vallis and Dis got back from their date, Thorin had casually mentioned Mr. Boggins had called and then rushed out, eager to sleep in his own bed for once. She pestered him all morning with phone calls and texts, but Thorin ignored all of them.

If he was feeling really bold, he could just call the class in order, but Dis was a horrible woman who’d find a way to get back at him. And Thorin really didn’t want that.

“As in wanted to exchange words,” Thorin told her. Alright, so he wasn’t above being churlish, but who wasn’t with younger siblings?

Dis crossed her arms and raised an unimpressed brow. “Don’t start thinking you’re cute,” Dis said. “Because you’re not.”

“Look, I have class,” Thorin replied, wanting to get out of this conversation as quickly as possible. “I’ll tell you afterwards, alright? You can hound me as much as you want then.”

Dis merely grunted – a Durin trait, or so it seemed. She was most definitely going to hound him later. “Don’t think you’ll get out of it because mother’s visiting.”

“I would never,” Thorin said, aghast. As he turned his attention on the hobgoblins running around him, he couldn’t help but admit that that was his entire plan.

* * *

“Grandma!” the boys shouted in glee as they spotted Freya sitting on the porch with a cold iced tea in hand. They unbuckled themselves, hopping out of the car before Thorin was able to park.

“Hey!” he yelled at them, but they were already scrambling up the steps, fighting for the first hug.

Freya laughed as she lifted both boys, blowing raspberries onto their cheeks. “You’ve grown so much!” she exclaimed. She gently set them down as they giggled.

“Look what I found,” Kili said as he pulled a long, elongated cone shaped rock from his pocket. “It’s a belelelem – a fossil!”

“Belemnite,” Thorin told him as he finally caught up with his nephews. “Hi, Ma,” he said, bending down to place a kiss on Freya’s cheek.

Kili practiced the word under his breath. “Belemenite!” he exclaimed, certain he got it, showing off the fossil to his grandmother.

He was hastily shoved aside as Fili offered up his own fossil for inspection. “I found an ammonite,” Fili boasted, knowing he had gotten the pronunciation right. He stuck his tongue out at his brother. His rock had an imprint of the shell and he was quite proud of his find.

The boys began shoving each other and Thorin pulled them apart. “Go get changed,” he ordered. The boys scurried off and Thorin sat down in the chair beside his mother.

“Remind me not to have children,” Thorin muttered under his breath as he closed his eyes. Finally, a break.

A swat on the arm induced only the laziest of eye openings. He grinned sheepishly at his mother. “You adore those boys.”

“I do not,” Thorin grumbled, hiding his face behind his hand. He sat up and rubbed his face aggressively. “Where’s Da?

Freya poured a glass of iced tea and handed it to her eldest. “Out back with Vallis trying to put together an impromptu barbecue.”

“Oh no,” Thorin groaned. His dad and brother in-law always got into fights over the best method of barbecuing. The amount of times Thorin had to steal the tongs away from those two was too many to count. In about twenty minutes Frerin was going to run through that door and fetch him to stop the madness. “Why didn’t you stop them?” Thorin asked.

 “Oi!” Thrain’s voice carried over the fence and onto the front porch. “You’re not putting those pork fillets anywhere near my burgers, you hear me?”

“Then where am I going to put the corn?”

“Corn! Get those things out of here!”

Frigga patted Thorin on the knee. “I personally think you barbecue the best.”

* * *

“It’s not funny!” Bilbo blushed, head in his lap as his parents laughed loudly.

They were seated in the backyard, taking advantage of the warm Autumn evening. Very soon it’d be too chilly to just sit outside without a jacket. He had been lighting the fire pit for s’mores when his mother asked how his job was treating him.

So naturally he mentioned Kili and his crush. “The boy destroyed another child’s artwork,” Bilbo continued, his statement coming out muffled and ignored by his parents.

Bilbo sat up and inspected his marshmallow. It was a bit singed on the edges but still relatively edible. “What was the name of that boy Bilbo married when he was five?” Bungo asked, brushing the cracker crumbs off his chin.

“Thorin,” Belladonna remembered brightly. “Thorin Durin. They were so precious.”

“Called me Mr. Baggins, he did,” Bungo continued. “Looked me straight in the eye and asked for your hand in marriage,” he guffawed.

“Dad,” Bilbo groaned, staring up at the pink sky, “please, stop.”

Belladonna stuck a marshmallow onto her stick and shoved it into the fire. “I bet that’s why you’ve never found anyone, Bumblebee,” she said. “Can’t find anyone as lovely and charming as your Thorin.”

“Thanks for the psychoanalysis, Mum,” Bilbo muttered, biting into a piece of chocolate. “But I doubt that’s the reason. I’m just very…”

“Picky?” she suggested.

“Over worked,” Bungo added.

“Up tight.”

“Focused on more important matters,” Bilbo finished, glaring at his parents.

“Don’t focus too long,” Belladonna said. “We want grandchildren.”

* * *

Thorin was watching Fili and Kili – high in their tree house – throwing water balloons down onto Frerin when Dis disturbed his view. “Talk,” she ordered.

Thorin had been hoping she had forgotten. “I think I’m getting another burger,” Thorin said, stepping past her and back towards his parents where Thrain refused to eat the corn.

“It’s a barbecue, Freya,” Thrain argued. “Meat! It’s about the meat.”

“Don’t think you’re going to get away from discussing this, Thorin,” Dis yelled after him.

Freya lowered the corn she was trying to force onto her husband and sent Thorin a disappointed look. Thorin avoided eye contact. He may be a grown man but he was still easily affected by that look.

It was the one she sent him when he was eight and left Frerin on the swings while he and Dwalin went to go throw rocks at the ducks. Or the time Thorin was ten minutes late picking up Dis from ballet when he was twelve.

Or the time Thorin punched Vallis when he found out Dis was pregnant.

He knew the power it held.

“What’re you arguing about now?” Freya asked.

“Mr. Boggins called last night while Thorin was babysitting,” Dis explained. “But _Thorin_ won’t tell me why, other than he wants to talk to me about Kili.”

“It’s nothing bad,” Thorin mumbled. “He’s just taking his crush a bit too seriously.”

“Boggins?” Freya asked. She laughed, suddenly remembering the small boy Thorin was enamored with when he was Kili’s age. “Baggins, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know,” Thorin replied. “Kili calls him Boggins.”

Freya grabbed Thrain’s arm. “Bilbo Baggins, do you remember?” Thrain nodded, happy his children had distracted his mother enough for her to forget all about him eating that corn. “He was precious,” she told Dis. “Big hazel eyes and golden curls. Thorin used to sing songs about him.”

A red blush stained Thorin’s cheeks. “Did not,” he replied.

“Thorin proposed to him and everything,” she continued. “I think I’ve still got the pictures somewhere.”

Dis cackled in delight as Thorin’s blush grew brighter. “Can we stop talking about this?”

“Thorin, you’re teddy bear,” Dis teased, pinching his cheek.

Thorin swatted her hand away. “Kili threw paint on another student’s art work,” he blurted out, watching as her smile turned into a deep scowl. He would have felt bad for Kili – after all he was trying to avoid getting the boy in trouble – but it was every man for himself.

Unfortunately, Kili got caught in the crossfire. "Kili! What did you do?" Dis hollered. Kili looked up from his perch and gulped. He was most certainly in trouble. 

“You don’t think he’s married, do you?”

“What?” Thorin asked, finally grabbing that burger.

“Bilbo Baggins,” Freya responded. “I’m sure he’s just as adorable now as he was then.”

“Ma,” Thorin said. “I’m certain my childhood crush – ”

“Love,” Thrain interrupted. “You were quite in love.”

Thorin grit his teeth. “Love,” he spat, “is happily married with kids of his own, alright? Now pass me the lettuce.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey hey. So I was going to finish up this chapter on Monday but then real life things happened and I spent the day staring at the ceiling and eating junk food. And I didn't particularly feel like writing grandparents. BUT I'M FINE NOW. And I had soo much fun writing this chapter. Needless to say Dis is going to meet Bilbo next chapter XD I'm crazy excited about that!!
> 
> Oh and today is still richard armitage's birthday in my timezone! So... think of this chapter coming out for that occasion. (today is also my mama's bday!! except she's in mexico and not answering her phone. mom why! okay thats enough about me). I think that is all.


	6. Wysteria

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dis meets Bilbo! Freya is ready to set her baby up with a certain Kindergarten teacher. Dwalin makes a guest appearance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's some cursing in this chapter. They're adults, and adults curse sometimes. I just wanted to warn you guys I guess... I don't know why. But thou hast been warned.

In all seven years of being a mother, never had Dis received a word of complaint. Her boys were rambunctious, no doubt about it, but they were sweet and kind, no matter what mischief they created. Therefore it was only natural that a wave of nervousness rushed through her as she parked her car outside the school just as classes were let.

The last thing she wanted was to be lectured on how she was an irresponsible parent, and how that is what had led to her son's life of hooliganism.

When she arrived on the playground the first son she spotted was Fili, hanging upside down from the jungle gym. He waved at her and pointed towards a curly haired man at her questioning look. Beside him sat a rather besotted Kili.

As Dis approached the teacher who could only be Mr. Boggins, seeing as Kili seemed to cling to his every word, she set her face to a stern frown – a Durin family trait – holding out her hand in greeting. "Mr. Boggins?" she asked, slightly surprised by how much smaller Mr. Boggins was in person.

"Mrs. Lombard," he greeted with a smile. "And it's Baggins, actually." He cut a sly look to Kili, a half grin and raised eyebrow making him look younger than his thirty or so years. "Bilbo Baggins."

Dis nodded politely before turning to Kili and saying, "Why don't you go play with your brother. I'm just going to have a word with Mr. Baggins."

Kili hopped down from the bench and took off his backpack, handing it over to his mother. "Don't forget to tell her about my star," Kili told Bilbo seriously.

"I couldn't possibly forget," Bilbo told him. Kili smiled brightly, pink blooming on the tips of his ears before he ran off towards the playground. Bilbo cleared his throat and offered the space Kili had been using up.

Dis graciously accepted, asking, "My brother said you wanted to speak with me."

"Yes, I'm sorry if I've worried you," Bilbo apologized, a finger unbuttoning and rebuttoning the bottom button of his vest. "But Kili isn't in trouble." He paused. "Well not in too much trouble. I did tell your brother on the phone that he was punished accordingly. Nothing cruel."

"He threw paint?"

"Friday afternoon we were working on self portraits," Bilbo explained. "We're using different mediums for each project. The day before that we had used glitter, which I would not recommend but the boys did quite enjoy it, but on this particular day we were using paint. Finger paint, nothing that should stain and they do of course wear smocks so the damage is minimal. I always make sure of that.

"What was I – Oh yes! – and Elladan showed me the painting he had done of himself; it always astounds me how talented they all are. And as I was telling him what a fantastic job he had done, Kili came over to try to show me his self portrait. Naturally I told him he had to be patient as I was with Elladan and then suddenly there was paint on Elladan's painting and Kili stood there with an empty paint container, having had thrown it in a fit of anger," Bilbo finished. He had made little eye contact as he spoke, choosing instead to watch Kili play with his brother.

He faced Dis this time as he continued, the woman still trying to process the teacher's words. "He did have to sit in the timeout corner for fifteen minutes and he cooled down," Bilbo said. "I wrote about the incident only minimally in his take home portfolio and I explained to him that he was not allowed to act out. I am his teacher, not his parent, and even then he must learn that he is not the only boy who deserves or who will receive my attention."

"I'm glad you told me," Dis responded. Kili was always demanding of attention. At home they did nothing but oblige, considering if they didn't he'd scream his head off and neither Dis nor Vallis really wanted the head ache. "He can be a bit much, I know."

"He's a darling boy, Mrs. Lombard," Bilbo smiled. "And I didn't pay much heed to his crush until the incident."

In all honesty, Dis hadn't read the weekly behavior report in her son's portfolio. She usually just signed it and put it back in the folder. She just didn't have the time to sit there and read about what an amazing sharer her children were. Besides, Fili and Kili would tell her all about their day anyhow.

"If it makes you uncomfortable, I can tell him to stop pestering you," Dis said.

"Fancying your teacher as a child is quite natural," Bilbo replied. "I usually have one or two every year. However if we emphasize words over tantrums, then I think Kili will be alright and this whole silly thing will blow over."

The two shook hands and Dis called for her boys who obediently came running. "Ma," Kili shouted as he hugged her legs. "Aren't you proud of me?"

Dis gave him a queer look. Proud? For misbehaving in class?

A small "oh" escaped Bilbo's mouth. "I almost forgot," Bilbo admitted. "Kili was the only boy in class to spell his first and last name without any help so he got a gold star."

Kili unzipped his jacket to show off the sticker on his shirt. Fili tried to rip it off and Kili smacked his hand away. Dis separated the two with ease. "Well thank you, Mr. Baggins," Dis said. "I'll make sure to have a talk with him."

"Bilbo, please," Bilbo replied, pulling a small roll of stickers out of his pocket and taking another gold star sticker and handing it to Fili. "For being a grand big brother," he said with a wink. Fili's face lit up and he eagerly took it, placing it on his right cheek, which only started another squabble.

It wasn't until both boys were sitting in the back of the car, seatbelts in place that Dis realized what he said. "Bilbo Baggins!" she exclaimed. She had half a mind to rush out of the car and question the man.

Could he be the very same Bilbo Baggins her mother had been talking about just two days prior? Oh, what a small world it was if it really was him, and Dis was absolutely positive it was.

* * *

"Ma!" Dis exclaimed over the phone as she washed the dishes. Dinner had just ended and she could hear Vallis in the next room, helping the boys with their homework. "I met him."

"Who?"

"Bilbo Baggins," she continued, scraping at a stubborn grease spot on her favorite pan. "Thorin's puppy love. He's Kili's teacher!"

"Are you certain? It could be a coincidence," Freya noted, but there was a hint of excitement underlying the statement. "What did he look like?"

Dis turned off the faucet, drying her hands on her pants. "Honey curls, big brown eyes, a dimple when he smiles," Dis prattled off. "A little pudgy round the middle, but in all honestly he looked like a cherub."

Freya clapped her hands enthusiastically. "That sounds just like him," she shrieked. "This is marvelous. Is he single?"

"I didn't ask," Dis told her, disgruntled. "How was I suppose to ask that question anyway?"

"We should invite him over for dinner," Freya decided. "We can have another barbecue!"

"Ma, there's such a thing as student – teacher etiquette."

"We'll think of something. I can't die until I know my Thorin is taken care of."

* * *

Thorin treaded up the pathway, the trail slightly muddy from the rainstorm last night. He assessed the damage so far and was glad to see that aside from a few broken twigs, Erebor Park had remained relatively unscathed.

He climbed further up the hill, only to groan in frustration. Apparently they weren't as unscathed as they had thought. He pulled out his radio and said, "Oakenshield to Black Bear."

"Go ahead," Beorn replied.

"We've got a collapsed tree on Ravenhill. Over."

"I'll be there in twenty. Over and out."

Thorin clipped his radio back onto his belt and climbed over the fallen tree, continuing his trek. If there were more down the path, then he could let Beorn know when he showed up.

"Lumberjack to Dumbass, come in Dumbass," Thorin's radio went off. "Over."

Thorin groaned, unclipping his radio and yelling into it, "Dwalin, get off the fucking talkie."

"Over," Dwalin reminded him. Thorin glared at his radio. He really needed to find new friends. Preferably ones who wouldn't induce migraines.

Not that Thorin didn't appreciate Dwalin. Of course he did. They'd known each other since they were fetuses. You didn't get much closer than that. Unfortunately Dwalin thought that meant that he could be as big a pain as possible.

"What do you want?" Thorin asked, heading back towards the fallen tree. The rest of the path seemed clear. "Don't you have to put braces on a poor defenseless twelve year old? Over."

"Not till after lunch," Dwalin admitted. "We've got a lunch date. Don't tell me you forgot. Over."

"Don't call it a date," Thorin told him. "I'm not dating you."

"You wish you could have someone as handsome and charming as me," Dwalin preened.

"Shut up," Thorin said. "And get off the radio. Over and out."

* * *

"I drove all the way up a fucking mountain," Dwalin grumbled, "and all you've got to offer me is cold chicken." He licked his fingers clean, patting his stomach in appreciation.

Thorin threw a napkin at him and Dwalin threw his head back and laughed. "You could have brought your own lunch, rather than stealing mine," Thorin pointed out.

"Not as fun," Dwalin admitted. He leaned back in his chair, staring up at the photographs pinned on Thorin's wall. Smiling faces of kids, family members; a deer seemingly alone in the woods, a woodpecker and its chicks, a picture of an expensive car they had seen at a car show. The photographs filled every inch of wall. "I've been thinking," Dwalin began.

"Stop," Thorin cut him off. "Every time you drop by you stare at my wall, then lecture me about what a lonely old man I am."

"It's cause you  _are_  a lonely old man," Dwalin stated matter of factly. "You're living vicariously through your job. It's unsettling."

"I'm fine," Thorin told him. "And you're not any better."

"At least I date," Dwalin pointed out. "You just wallow in despair."

"I'm fine," Thorin repeated. "Just fine."

"Aunt Freya called me," Dwalin told him. "Said I ought to set you up with someone, or she was going to do it herself."

Thorin groaned, bringing a hand to the bridge of his nose. "She's always trying to set me up."

"I hear she's got a teacher in mind this time," Dwalin said. "Better than a dental assistant if you ask me."

"Get out of here," Thorin growled, throwing a chicken bone at him. "Go torture some poor child."

Dwalin stood, cracking his back as he stood. "Gladly."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are getting so close to these idiots meeting each other. I promise. And when it happens it will be glorious. Also, introduction to Dwalin! He's a dentist. XD I was sitting on the couch thinking up careers for our dwarf babies and the thought of Dwalin as a dentist was really hysterical to me and so it had to be done. Could you imagine coming into a doctor's office and seeing this big burly man who's supposed to fill in your cavities? Yup. I'm still deciding whether I should give him a significant other... *sigh* decisions decisions
> 
> Also! I started a new bagginshield fic! It's called [Chocolate Cake (with Buttercream Frosting)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2216505/chapters/4860075) and basically Thorin's a hitman and hides out as a baker. So if you're at all interested, that is a thing that I've started. I'm really excited about it. Um.. that's all I think. :)
> 
> Aardvark!


	7. Flamingo Pink: I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo gets an invitation to a family get together at Kili's house. Thorin is bossed around by his mama bear. Also, Thorin has really weird dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to [incubigirl](http://incubigirl.tumblr.com/) who kicked my writer's block to the curb. KAPOW! (also, she's really amazing so you all should follow *cough cough*)

Bilbo blinked at Dis, Kili pulling onto his hand, completely oblivious to the anxiousness bubbling within him. “I don’t think that I can…” he trailed off, frantically searching for a reason as to _not_ accept the invitation, or at least walk away from this very conversation.

“Please!” Kili begged, swinging Bilbo’s hand back and forth, his messy hair falling into his eyes with every sway. “We’re going to have hotdogs!” he exclaimed, and then in a quieter voice said, “We didn’t have any last time and I had to ask special.”

Then he pulled out the pouty lip and puppy eyes. Oh damn it all. Bilbo really wasn’t very good at denying puppy dog eyes, despite the fact that he taught six year olds. That wasn’t completely true. Blatant manipulation after a child had done something wrong he could withstand. Innocent pleading, not so much.

“You don’t _have_ to come,” Dis reassured him. “We just thought it’d be nice, especially since it’s going to start getting colder soon. I understand that there might be student/teacher boundaries you’re concerned about.”

Bilbo was so glad she understood. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to go to their home for a barbecue. But if he went to Kili’s house, then he’d have to go to everyone’s house and then all his students would lose whatever respect he was able to muster from them. “I’ll consider it, thank you,” Bilbo said.

Kili jumped up and down in glee, which really broke Bilbo’s heart all the more. The boy was too attached to him. If he showed up to his house tomorrow afternoon, Kili was going to start thinking of him as a friend, not a teacher.

That was it. He just wasn’t going to go.

* * *

But maybe he should go.

Bilbo rolled over in bed, staring at the clock on his nightstand. It wasn’t even seven on a Saturday, and here he was, wide awake. It simply wasn’t fair.

He had clearly decided yesterday that he wasn’t going to go to the barbecue. He had convinced himself of this fact, and now his brain was flitting about, trying to make him break his own declaration.

First off, Kili was a student and Bilbo was his teacher. He’s not supposed to go to Kili's house, eat their food, and schmooze. It just wasn’t right. What would Galadriel say if she ever found out! Though considering she was running the school at the time he was attending and Gandalf came to his house plenty of times, it seemed quite likely she wouldn’t care at all.

Secondly, Bilbo had a busy schedule. He had to finish weeding the garden before the autumn chill set in and made the ground difficult to work with. He still had several boxes to unpack. He promised his Mother he’d take her apple picking.

Great, he was just coming up with feeble excuses now.

“Are you a Took or a Baggins?” Bilbo asked himself, throwing the covers off of himself and stuffing his toes into his slippers. This was just getting ridiculous.

He had been kindly invited to attend a barbecue. There would be, no doubt, delicious food. And if he had to mingle with Kili and his family, so be it! Was he going to be a recluse for the rest of his life?

* * *

Thorin had had that dream again.

The one where Granddad Thror walked a goat into their yard, handed Thorin a machete, and told him to slaughter the beast. And rather than killing the goat, Thorin tried to shove the goat into the mailbox to send it back home, but the goat refused to budge.

Eventually, he woke up, but Thorin was certain that today was going to be a strange day. Every time he had the goat dream, it was nearly always guaranteed.

“Why don’t you ever just slaughter it like you’re supposed to?” Dwalin asked him, hauling out a table onto the yard as Thorin followed with chairs. “It’s not like you haven’t killed an animal in cold blood before.”

“Have Fili and Kili been telling stories again?” Thorin asked.

Dwalin nodded, throwing himself into a chair, causing it to creak dangerously. “Said you wrestled a mountain lion last week.”

“I have never, nor will I ever, wrestle a mountain lion.”

“You’re no fun,” Dwalin said.

Freya popped her head out the sliding door and shouted, “I need a ride to the shop.”

Dwalin and Thorin shared a look. “I can’t,” Dwalin said. “I’ve been drinking.”

“You have not,” Thorin grumbled, tipping over the chair Dwalin was in, taking great glee in the very manly shriek he let out. Dwalin grabbed Thorin’s trouser leg and shoved him down with him.

“When you’re done wrestling, please,” Freya shouted back, heading back into the house, closing the door on their antics.

Dis glanced out the door and rolled her eyes as Thorin pulled Dwalin into a chokehold. “They better not break my chairs,” Dis said. “I’ll throw them both out, and see how’d they like it.”

“Is he coming?” Freya asked, grabbing her purse.

Dis grinned up at her mother. “Yes. Said he’d be delighted,” she bubbled. “Though he couldn’t stay long.”

“Perfect,” Freya said, opening the back door once more. “Let’s go!” The two men looked up at her, Dwalin sitting on Thorin’s back, arm twisted uncomfortably while Thorin tried to shove him off.

* * *

“I don’t know why you didn’t just get all this stuff on your way over,” Thorin complained as his mother piled disposable plates, napkins, and cups into his arms. “Doesn’t Dis already have all of this stuff?”

“Yes,” Freya said, holding up two different boxes of forks, trying to decide which one she preferred. “But she’s got the cheap kind.”

“Never bothered you before,” Thorin grumbled, searching the aisle for a basket, but finding it devoid of anything helpful.

Freya sighed, looking at her son forlornly. Thorin could only shuffle awkwardly. What was he doing wrong? He was just standing there, holding things like he was supposed to. He was sure passerby were giving him sheepish looks.

Yes, he’s doing the shopping with his mother. No, he’s not an overgrown manchild.

“I hope you’re not wearing that to the barbecue,” Freya said after giving him a good once over. “I’m sure you’ve had that shirt since you were fifteen.”

Thorin had not had this particularly tee shirt since he was fifteen. When he was that age he was a gangly teen with a nose too big for his face and feet that he’d trip over every time he so much as stood. He didn’t even appreciate Thor as a teen.

Mainly because Frerin would make fun of him. He hated being called Thor. Which was why Fili and Kili had stolen the shirt from him and added an ‘I N’ to the end of the word. Yes, it looked like children scrawled and destroyed his shirt, but Thorin thought it was sweet. Made the gag gift worth while.

It wasn’t like they were expecting company. “You invited someone didn’t you,” Thorin blurted out, trailing after his mother as she wandered into another aisle.

Freya clicked her tongue, affirming Thorin’s fear. “You promised you were going to stop,” Thorin hissed.

“I’m going to die without grandkids,” Freya said.

“You already have grandkids!” Thorin shouted, turning pink as he realized that the couple a few feet away were staring at him. He knocked his head into a shelf, cursing the goat dream with all his might. “You’re also so disgustingly healthy, you’ll most likely outlive me,” he muttered.

“I just want to see my baby happy,” Freya beamed, running a hand through his thick mane. “So on our drive back, we can stop by your place so you can change.”

Thorin wanted to hide behind the boxes of laundry detergent and never emerge. How was it, that at thirty five years old, he was still under his mother’s thumb? How?

* * *

Bilbo could not believe his luck. Of all the times, in all the places, his car had to putter out on the side of the road. “You no good, dirty rotten, piece of junk,” Bilbo shouted as he kicked the back tire. The worst part was, he was terrible with automobiles.

He knew all about the gas and the brake and the shift gear, but ask him to check his oil and he’d stare at you as if you had three eyes and called yourself Betty.

“The world is conspiring against me,” Bilbo bemoaned.

A loud honk of a horn interrupted his melancholy. “Having trouble there?”

Bilbo looked up into the smiling face of a well tanned man with a droopy mustache, driving a tow truck. Well that was highly convenient. “Yes!” Bilbo exclaimed, taking a grateful step towards the driver. “The blasted thing died on me.”

“They do that sometimes, don’t they?” the man replied, pulling the truck to the side of the road and hopping out. Another man with a rough scar on his forehead and streaks of white in his hair popped out the passenger side.

They both seemed relatively well dressed for mechanics and Bilbo realized that maybe they weren’t exactly on duty. “Were you going somewhere?” Bilbo asked, hesitant. He really didn’t want to disrupt their plans.

The mustached man just shrugged. “It’s alright.” He turned towards the other man who was staring at Bilbo as if he were the greatest treasure in the world. “You alright, Bif?”

He whispered in the mustached man’s ear and suddenly he was gaping at Bilbo. Bilbo took a step back, not exactly sure what was going on. He really didn’t want his car fixed all that much anyway.

“Bilbo Baggins,” he breathed out, letting out a laugh. “Why I don’t believe my eyes.”

“Um…” Bilbo said, not quite sure what to say. “Yes?”

“By my beard! It really is you!”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t – ”

“It’s Bofur!” Bofur – apparently – exclaimed. “And Bifur Broadbeam,” he said, pointing at Bifur who was bouncing on his toes. “I’d recognize you if I was spun twenty times, blind folded, and thrown into a blackened room.”

Suddenly Bilbo was squashed between two bodies, hugged within every inch of his life.

Oh my. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> maniacal laughing. So yeah, I had terrible writer's block, but I overcame! We're just so close guys. SOO CLOSE. I basically imagine Thorin either wearing [this shirt](http://www.superherostuff.com/thor/t-shirts/thor-heather-tri-blend-t-shirt.html?itemcd=tsthrhtrtri) or [this shirt](http://www.junkfoodclothing.com/mens/men-new/the-mighty-thor-tee.html) with child script at the end of the word. Also, Awkward teen Thorin who hasn't grown into his body parts is what gives me life.  
> FYI, I'm writing two fics for the hobbit reverse bang, soooo I don't know how often I will be updating this fic. Because I know they're going to take up a lot of my time. But know that lack of updates does not mean I am dead or that I'm giving up on this fic or anything.  
> Is that all? I think so...  
> Aardvark!


	8. Flamingo Pink: II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin is a mama's boy, Dwalin blows a gasket, Bofur gabs, and two losers meet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the long wait, but like I've said before, working on lots of fics right now.  
> also, have I mentioned I have a tumblr? because I do. (andquitefrankly.tumblr.com)  
> Okay, I'm done rambling, go read the chapter.

“No,” Thorin pouted, arms crossed, sitting on his bed as his mother rummaged through his closet. Shirts and trousers had been thrown at him at least a dozen times in the past hour and his patience was beginning to thin.

Freya happily ignored him, pulling out a deep blue button up shirt and smiling broadly. “Perfect!” She placed it beside Thorin, tweaking his nose affectionately.

“Ma,” Thorin tried as he unbuttoned the last shirt his mother had declared perfect, and pulled on the new one. “Is this all really necessary?”

She tutted fondly, eyeing her son up and down, clicking her tongue at the state of his hair. “You need to make a good impression,” Freya said, rushing into the bathroom and coming back into the room with a hairbrush.

Thorin, refusing to embarrass himself further, snatched the brush away. His mother may have had to dress him, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to let her brush his hair like a child.

“You should put it up,” Freya commented. “You look so handsome when it’s up. More handsome. Do you have cologne?”

He loved his mother, he really did, but right now Thorin really wanted her to disappear and let him die of mortification alone. He got it. He was a sad, lonely, old man. He lived alone, spent most of his free time either watching his nephews or with his family, ignoring all attempts at romantic attachments. He hadn’t been on a date in years, hadn’t gotten laid in even longer.

But Thorin was fine with that. He was comfortable. At thirty five he was perfectly content with his life. Was he ever going to find someone to spend his life with? At this point, probably not, but Thorin had accepted it.

Unlike his pushy mother. If she wasn’t busy trying to set him up on dates with random strangers, she was reminding him how she was old and all she wanted was to see him happily married (“or at least with someone, for heaven’s sake you’re going to be alone and miserable for the rest of your life, do you really want that?”).

Frerin wasn’t married either, and Thorin didn’t see his mother nagging him every three seconds. Though that was probably because Frerin had a new girlfriend every week. Why had Dis gotten married so young anyway?

“Stop sulking,” Freya told him, putting his low ponytail into a messy bun. She smiled at him in the mirror. “Maybe you should shave the beard.”

“I’m not shaving,” Thorin insisted. He was quite proud of this beard, and not because it drew attention away from his sharp nose. “Are we done now? Can we go? I’d like to face my doom straight on.”

“You’re so overdramatic,” Freya huffed.

* * *

Bofur was as chatty as ever, letting Bilbo know all about his and Bifur’s life since Bilbo moved away.

Bilbo hadn’t quite remembered them right away, and honestly he really couldn’t be blamed. It was nearly thirty years since he’d seen either man, but those eager faces quickly matched up with the two boys Bilbo had been friends with.

“You’re quite lucky we found you there, Bilbo,” Bofur went on. “Who knows how long you’d have to wait for a tow truck, eh?”

“It was quite coincidental, wasn’t it,” Bilbo said.

Bifur spoke quietly into Bofur’s ear. “Say where you headed anyway?” Bofur asked.

Bilbo looked at Bifur as he answered, figuring it was Bifur’s question anyhow. He was never particularly close with Bifur, seeing as he was older and a bit quiet, but at least he had been able to speak to him when it necessitated. Perhaps this was a quirk he had gained after Bilbo had left. “I was invited to a cookout.”

“Well, we can drop your car off at the shop and then take you where you need to go,” Bofur said.  “I’ll do the inspection myself tomorrow, if ya don’t mind me taking over. Just don’t want one of the other fellas to take advantage of you.”

Bilbo hummed in consent, finding himself enjoying how Bofur rattled on. Most of his friends were still in Hobbiton, and the only communication he had with them was far and few between. This was nice, having someone to talk to, having someone there to talk him, even if he wasn’t adding anything further to the conversation.

He hadn’t seen Bofur in ages, and he was still the same as ever. The only difference really was the mustache and the prominent laugh lines etched onto his face.

“That sounds perfect,” Bilbo commented. “I really do appreciate you helping me out.”

Bofur waved that comment away with, “Pah! What are friends for, right Bif?”

* * *

As his oldest and closest friend, Dwalin felt it was his right to laugh his ass off. “Oh Mahal,” he gasped, clutching to his stomach, doubled over as if Thorin was the funniest thing in the world. “Look at you,” he wheezed. “Did mummy dress you?”

Thorin’s scowl was a clear affirmative. Dwalin guffawed, tears streaming down his face. “She did your hair too,” he managed before clutching his side, leaning against a wall. “It hurts, it hurts.”

Fili and Kili looked up at Dwalin with concern. Identical puzzled looks on their face as they watched him slowly deteriorate into a cackling mess on the floor.

“You look nice, Uncle Thorin,” Kili decided to say, ignoring Dwalin whose laughter grew in volume at the boy’s statement. “Do I look nice?” he asked, holding his arms out and spinning around for inspection.

Fili put his finger to his chin, deep in thought. “You should brush your hair,” Fili told him.

Kili’s hands quickly grabbed his hair as he looked up at his uncle in terror. “Do I look terrible?”

Thorin felt a headache coming on. What was wrong with his family? They were all insane. “Why are you all dressed up?” he asked, ignoring Kili’s question because Kili’s hair was always a mess, mainly because he wouldn’t sit still long enough to work out the knots.

“Mr. Boggins is coming,” Fili answered, smug, sticking out his tongue at Kili who stomped his foot in protest.

Kili waved Thorin down to his eye level and whispered in his ear, “I’m wooing Mr. Boggins,” a very determined look on his face.

Right. Thorin wasn’t sure if he had the heart to tell the little guy that his beloved Gram was trying to get his adored Uncle together with this Mr. Boggins. “Then you should probably brush your hair,” Thorin replied.

The boys scampered off, screaming for a hair brush as they went. Thorin looked up and wondered what he had done to deserve this.

Mr. Boggins was the only possible person that his mother was trying to set him up with. He was the only one who was invited who he wasn’t actually related to. Hopefully, Mr. Boggins would hate him and he wouldn’t have to deal with breaking Kili’s heart.

But now that he thought of it, weren’t there rules about how close a teacher could get with a student? Certainly going to his _home_ was a clear violation. If anything, Thorin could threaten him with blackmail and then it’ll all be over. Yes. Perfect plan. Thorin deserved a cold beer and a pat on the back for that.

“Hello, hello!” came Bofur’s excited voice, knocking on the front door as he opened it, Bifur at his heels. “Durin familia, anyone home?”

Thorin shouted, “Everyone’s outside!” heading towards the front door, giving Dwalin a swift kick as he passed.

Bofur bounded in, Bifur following, arm wrapped around the shoulders of a short, golden haired man, curls framing his round face just so, face pink in embarrassment.

Oh. Oh! Thorin stumbled over his own feet, staring at the stranger in the doorway. It was the man from the bookstore. The dancing man. The man he scared away with his pathetic small talk. Oh, Yavanna.

Thorin could feel the panic begin to bubble over. Abort! Abort! Why would Bofur bring his beau here? Why did it have to be this man? When did he even get a beau? How dare he try to show off!

“Love at first sight all over again, eh?” Bofur laughed as he grabbed Thorin’s arm, bringing them nearly cheek to cheek. From this position Thorin could get a closer look at the man and he heard himself swallow.

Any second now the man was going to recognize him. And then everyone would know about his embarrassing trip to the book store. Perfect. Because Dwalin wasn’t already riding his ass about his mum doing his hair.

“What?” Thorin asked, just now registering what Bofur had said.

Bofur looked put out. “Come on, Thorin. You remember Bilbo, don’t you? Bilbo Baggins!”

Oh, well that explained everything. “What are you going on about?”

“Bofur, I don’t quite understand what you’re suggesting,” Bilbo Baggins stuttered. “But I can’t breathe.”

“For Mahal’s sake,” Bofur exclaimed. “You remember each other, don’t you? Bilbo? Thorin?” The lack of answer said it all. “You married each other when you were six!”

Thorin wracked his brain, trying to remember when he had ever gotten marr – “Mahal’s hammer,” Thorin blurted, staring at Bilbo Baggins. It was him.

IT WAS HIM.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AUGH THEY FINALLY MEET BUT IT'S A CLIFFHANGER. HOW CAN I BE SO HORRIBLE! Truthfully, it was going to end up being a double update, but I contained myself. I'm super looking forward to the next chapter so it might come faster than this one did. 
> 
> But rejoice in Bilbo and Thorin finally meeting. The next chapter is going to be awkward chats, Dwalin being an unhelpful best friend, Thorin being an jerkwad because what are emotions, and a very confused Bilbo. Also a super gleeful Freya. She can already hear the wedding bells.


	9. Flamingo Pink: III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> THEY MEET. Awkward conversations, Bilbo realizes things, Thorin is a nervous wreck, Kili is the ultimate defender of Bilbo's honor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told you I'd update this chapter quickly. This is almost 3000 words, because I couldn't stop writing. Enjoy!

When Thorin had been a boy, he had had his entire life planned out.

He was going to discover dinosaurs all over the world, and become the world’s most famous paleontologist. He’d be a millionaire and live in a giant mansion with enough rooms to house his entire family and he’d own a great big dog, the kind with lots of hair. He would want for naught.

And at the center of that perfect life was Bilbo. In all of his childhood fantasies, Bilbo was always by his side. Bilbo Baggins, with his dazzling smile and perfect dimples, hazel eyes filled with emotion, and a temper just the right blend of sweet and taciturn.

Bilbo had been the center of Thorin’s world. The sun and the moon.

They had had only two years together, but what years they were. Never seen without the other, it was always much rarer for someone to call out “Thorin” without “Bilbo” attached. They held true to their marriage vows, thinking of only how to make the other one happy, Thorin especially, fearing that one day Bilbo would find someone better and more suited to his own temperament.

When Bilbo moved away, Thorin’s heart shattered into a million pieces. His best friend and one true love had left and Thorin couldn’t cope with the abandonment. They had promised forever, but it was impossible, not when they were still children, still dependent on their parents.

They had tried, of course, to keep in touch. There were the phone calls and letters, but they grew fewer and further between, that by the following year, each boy could hardly remember what the other looked like. And as the years passed they forgot each other completely, as small children were wont to do.

Thorin hand grown, molding a new life for himself, one that didn’t include Bilbo, and Bilbo had done the same.

But looking at Bilbo now, Thorin felt his chest constrict.

How? How could he forget this boy – man? Even now, Thorin couldn’t breathe, the air slowly thinning around him. That feeling he had gotten as a boy returned, the one that felt like he was struck by lightning.

His throat went dry, palms grew clammy, and he was suddenly struck with tunnel vision, the only thing he could see was Bilbo.

Oh god.

“Bofur,” Bilbo chided, slipping out from under Bofur’s constricting arm. “We talked about the personal space.”

How was he not affected in the least, Thorin wondered. Maybe he hadn’t heard properly. That had to be it. Meanwhile, he was certain that if Bofur wasn’t holding him up, he’d keel over into a dead faint, dignity be damned.

He was in love. Having just met his _childhood_ _husband_ , one would question the validity of that statement, but Thorin was indeed head over heels, over the moon, and soaring above the stars in love.

Again. 

“Mr. Boggins!” Kili shouted, perfectly brushed hair flying behind him as he bounded towards Bilbo, embracing his teacher’s legs, glaring angrily up at Bofur, daring him to put another hand on his teacher.

Bilbo let out an oomph, patting Kili’s head. “Hello,” Bilbo smiled, allowing himself to be dragged towards the yard.

Once the two had disappeared, Thorin grabbed Bofur by the shoulders, leaning forward so they were merely inches apart. “What is he doing here?” Thorin asked.

“Oh, so ya do remember?” Bofur smiled, completely oblivious to Thorin’s mental breakdown.

“Explain,” Thorin hissed. “Are you two…?”

“Don’t go jumping to conclusions, Thorin,” Bofur replied, casually pulling himself out of Thorin’s grip. “He’s here for you.”

Thorin blinked. “Does he remember me?” Thorin asked, breathless. If Bilbo found out that he had forgotten him completely, the man would probably tear into him, especially if he remembered him the whole time.

Bofur shrugged. “I don’t think so,” he admitted. “Took a while for him to remember who I was. Just give him time.”

* * *

“And that’s my Uncle Dwalin,” Kili finished, pointing out a tall, bald man with an impressive musculature. “He’s a dentist.” He opened his mouth and showed off his teeth to Bilbo.

“Very nice,” Bilbo commented. Kili had made it his mission to point out everyone at the cookout without actually letting him interact with any of them. They were hiding in the kitchen, just behind the sliding glass doors that led to the yard. “I think I ought to greet your mother, Kili.”

Kili jumped, fist pumping the air. “Let’s go!”

“Yes,” Bilbo muttered as Kili took him by the hand and pulled him into the yard where every person – Dwalin, Balin, Kili’s father, his mother, Grandmother, Bifur, etc, etc – looked at him as they entered. Bilbo raised his hand and wiggled his fingers in greeting. “Hello.”

Kili’s grandmother was the first to react, her face breaking out into a large smile, her graying hair pulled into a high ponytail swinging as she rushed to him, arms open. “Bilbo Baggins!” she cooed, grabbing his face, reminiscent of his mother’s own greetings. “Look at you.”

She let him go and gave him a good once over, nodding as if she came to a final decision. “You’re so handsome,” she said, tears seeming to pool in her eyes.

“Gram?” Kili asked, pulling on her dress.

“Freya!” Vallis shouted, making his way to his emotional mother in-law. He put a hand on her shoulder and offered the other to Bilbo. “Vallis, Kee’s father.”

Bilbo took the proffered hand, grateful for someone normal to talk to. “Bilbo Baggins,” he introduced. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Da!” Kili complained, shoving Vallis away from his teacher. “Go make burgers or something.”

“Aren’t you being rude,” Vallis said, not budging an inch as his son struggled in his endeavor. Kili shoved and shoved, but it was all in vain. “We’re quite happy you could make it,” Vallis continued, grabbing Kili and throwing him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

The boy squealed and giggled, flailing his limbs about. “I’ll watch over Bilbo,” Freya volunteered, putting her hand on Bilbo’s elbow, claiming him for her own. “Go throw that rapscallion away,” she said over her shoulder, dragging Bilbo away.

Bilbo really wasn’t sure what was happening. He could understand Bofur being glad to see him, but Kili’s grandmother was overly emotional for being introduced to a stranger. And what was with that man in the hallway? Thorin, if his memory recalled correctly.

Bofur seemed to think they knew each other, and while Bilbo knew him from that EMBARRASSING moment in the bookstore (it seemed avoiding the bookstore didn’t help in making sure they never saw each other again), he didn’t want to think Thorin went around telling everyone the story.

It didn’t help that Thorin was just as damn attractive as he was _that_ day. It was completely unfair. Bilbo would just make a point to avoid him.

“It’s been years,” Freya remarked, pulling Bilbo along until she sat herself down on a bench by the roses, patting the spot beside her. “How’s your mother?”

“I – she’s fine,” Bilbo answered. “Look, Mrs… er… Kili’s Gram.”

“Freya.”

“Mrs. Freya,” Bilbo continued. “I don’t quite know – ”

What Bilbo didn’t quite know wasn’t said as his question was cut off by the big man’s – Dwalin, Bilbo’s mind supplied – yelp as Thorin twisted his arm, shoving him onto the ground. Bilbo swallowed, mouth suddenly dry.

“Thorin!” Freya shouted, more than a little peeved. Thorin looked up from his victory and jumped off of Dwalin quick as could be. “Get over here.”

Dwalin guffawed, slapping Thorin on the back, no doubt poking fun at his being caught rough housing like a child. Thorin shoved him away and made his way to Freya.

Bilbo silently wished he had had the foresight to grab something to drink, at least then he’d have something to do with hands, rather than tap his fingers nervously against his thigh. If Bilbo had known that this meeting was going to happen, Bilbo would have preferred sitting in his car for hours waiting for a tow truck.

Once Thorin was an arm’s reach away, Freya began fussing over him, swatting his shirt down, brushing off invisible dirt, and pushing strands of hair behind his ears. Thorin put up with it with a patience Bilbo had yet to master.

“I think your father’s calling me,” Freya suddenly declared, leaving Thorin and Bilbo alone, a hop in her step.

Bilbo rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, hoping that Kili would find him and pull him away from this awkward situation. What does one say to the man who caught you booty shaking in a book store?

“I’m Thorin. Kili’s uncle,” Thorin coughed, hands stuffed into his the pockets of his tight jeans. Bilbo tried his best not to stare. It was completely unfair how attractive he was. “I answered that call, when you called – about Kili – that was me.”

“Oh, was it?”

“Yeah. Kili’s got lots of uncles but… I was that uncle.”

“Thank you,” Bilbo said, ending the stilted conversation.

Aule have mercy, Bilbo felt like throwing himself away. The man was making an effort and he was over here biting his tongue like an idiot. Any moment now, Thorin was going to realize that he was conversing with the saddest man on the planet and walk away.

He’d hate for him to leave, but he’d love to watch him go.

For Yavanna’s sake! He was acting like a lust filled teenager. Bilbo prayed for the suffering to end. Anytime now would be nice.

“You good friends with Bofur?” Thorin asked.

No! Why was he still trying to conversate? Hadn’t he had enough?

Bilbo shook his head. “My car sort of – ” he rasberried “ – and Bofur showed up out of nowhere and then he recognized me or something. I sort of remember him. Apparently we were in the same class once…”

Thorin nodded along to the story, seeming to find the story much more interesting that it really was. Bilbo was telling it and _he_ was bored.

“So… you don’t _really_ remember him,” Thorin reasoned.

“Well it all sounds vaguely familiar,” Bilbo protested. “Kindergarten was ages ago. I’m not going to remember everyone I’ve ever met, am I.”

“Do you remember kindergarten at all?” Thorin asked eagerly.

Bilbo took a step back, shooting him a puzzled look. “I remember Gandalf. He was my teacher. And I remember…” he trailed off, face turning pink.

“What? What do you remember?”

“It’s embarrassing,” Bilbo admitted, staring down at his shoes. He could feel Thorin’s eyes on him and that just made it worse. He ought to just blurt it out and be done with it. Yes. Perfect plan. “I’m pretty sure I was madly in love with this kid in my class.” He looked up at Thorin who staring at him eagerly.

“Really?”

“Apparently I married him,” Bilbo laughed self consciously. “But that was ages ago. He’s probably – ” Bofur’s words suddenly rang in his head. _You remember each other, don’t you? Bilbo? Thorin? You married each other when you were six!_

Oh. OH. Bilbo gaped at Thorin, pointing a timid finger at his broad chest. This was the boy?! This was no boy! This was… he might as well be Aule himself, with that strong jaw, sharp nose, and full beard. He had muscles where Bilbo didn’t know muscles existed. He was a god, gracing mere mortals like himself with his presence.

And he was – “You’re him!” Bilbo blurted. This… this was not good. He could feel himself getting woozy. Very, very woozy. He just needed a lie down. That’s all. Just a nice, graceful fall to the ground.

* * *

Thorin caught Bilbo as he fainted. This was not how he had planned things out. This was the exact opposite of how this was supposed to turn out. “A little help!” he shouted to his family who were, for the first time in his entire life, doing a good job of ignoring him.

Kili was the first person to run up, Fili trailing behind him. “Uncle!” he shouted. “What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything,” Thorin defended himself. He shifted Bilbo, deciding that letting him droop with his arms in the air probably wasn’t comfortable. He put an arm behind his back and knees, scooping him up into bridal carry.

He managed to make his way to his sister’s living room, placing Bilbo on the couch. Vallis was checking Bilbo’s vitals within seconds, Kili at his elbow, making sure his father didn’t screw it up.

“What happened?” Dwalin asked.

Thorin shrugged, unsure himself.

“You killed Mr. Boggins!” Kili shouted, hands balled into fists.

“He’s not dead, Kee,” Vallis told him.

“I didn’t do anything!” Thorin exclaimed. “We were talking and he fainted!”

Bilbo began to stir and every Durin turned to him, eager eyes awaiting his arousal. “Bilbo, can you hear me?” Vallis asked. “Fili go get some crackers. His blood sugar might be low.”

Bilbo mumbled something, which heartened those watching him.

Dwalin elbowed Thorin in the ribs. “This is probably your best blind date yet.”

“Shut up,” Thorin growled. The sad thing was, he was totally right.

* * *

When Bilbo awoke, there were at least a dozen smiling faces staring down at him, which did nothing but scare the stuffing out of him. “What’s going on?” he asked, trying to sit up but being held down. A cracker was forced into his hand and Bilbo felt obliged to eat it.

“Uncle Thorin almost killed you,” Fili said, Kili nodding vigorously next to him, pressing another cracker into his hand. “Da saved you.”

“I didn’t kill him,” Thorin grumbled, standing as far away from Bilbo as possible.

“You did too,” Kili argued. He turned to Bilbo, hair whipping him in the face. “I’ll protect you,” he promised.

Bilbo groaned, pressing a hand to his temple. “Can I have a moment?” he asked the crowd.

He heard, rather than saw, everyone leave, and Bilbo breathed a sigh of relief. Thorin was that kid who gave him the dinosaur toy as a farewell present. And he probably knew the entire time! Bofur certainly did.

No wonder Freya was all over him like he was a long lost son, come to heal her heart. “Water?”

“What?” Bilbo blurted, opening his eyes to see Thorin sitting at his feet, a bottled water in his hands. He didn’t seem able to look Bilbo in the eye, and frankly Bilbo didn’t blame him. It seemed someone decided Thorin ought to keep watch over him.

Bilbo nodded, sitting up slowly as he took the proffered drink. “Thanks,” Bilbo mumbled, gulping down the water.

They sat there in silence for a while, Bilbo distracting himself with the bottle, peeling at the label with his thumb. “I’m sorry for ruining the party,” Bilbo finally said.

“We’ve had worse,” Thorin admitted, blanching at the wording. “Not that this is bad. But there was one time – actually I’m going to stop talking. How do you feel?”

“Embarrassed.”

“You shouldn’t be,” Thorin said. “They all blame me anyway.” He grinned; it was small but Bilbo could make it out despite how much it tried to hide in Thorin’s beard. “I’ll leave if you want.”

Maybe this was that boy. From what Bilbo could remember, Thorin – kindergarten Thorin – used to fret over him constantly, doing any and everything to make him happy. It seemed that that was what this Thorin was doing now.

Bilbo smiled back. He fainted like an idiot, and yet Thorin was still talking to him. Perhaps he hadn’t ruined everything. “Thanks,” Bilbo said, holding up the water bottle.

“Anytime,” Thorin replied. “Not that – ”

“I understand.”

“Good.”

Bilbo wondered for a moment if Thorin was single. And not straight. But quickly shoved that thought out of his mind. He was reunited with an old friend. He wasn’t going to ruin it with romantic thoughts.

Alright, so they were more like dirty thoughts, but Bilbo was only human, and how could he resist when a hot piece of man was smiling at him like that.

Bilbo cleared his throat. “I should probably head home.”

“I’ll drive you,” Thorin offered, standing abruptly. “If you want.”

He wasn’t flirting. He wasn’t being forward. He was just trying to be nice, Bilbo tried to remind himself. “Alright.”

That was when Kili bounded into the room, climbing onto Bilbo’s lap, shooting dirty looks at Thorin. “I’m coming too,” he declared. “I’ve got to keep you safe, Mr. Boggins.”

Thorin looked ready to throttle the child. “I didn’t make him faint,” Thorin said through clenched teeth. This was clearly an argument he and the boy had had while Bilbo was happily unconscious.

Kili simply stuck out his tongue, cuddling further into Bilbo’s arms. “It’s okay, Mr. Boggins,” Kili whispered rather loudly, not seeming to understand what whispering was about. “I’ll make sure Uncle Thorin behaves in a gentelmany manner.”

There were times when Thorin loved his nephews, and others where he wanted to throw them away. Kili was currently in the throw away category.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you know what this means? Now that they've met they can begin their wacky courtship. Huzzah! Which means introduction of the rest of the dwarves! *happy dance* I'm going to go to sleep now, before I pass out at my computer.


	10. Dandelion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin drives Bilbo home. Kili is the worst (and will continue to be until the end of time). Bofur is on to you, Bilbo.

Thorin anxiously drummed his fingers on the steering wheel in time to the song playing on the radio. Kili sat in the back, belting out ABBA at the top of his lungs, seemingly unaware of the ear drums he was bursting.

Bilbo held back a laugh as he watched Kili from the rearview mirror, swinging his feet back and forth, hitting Thorin’s seat every other kick. The pained look on Thorin’s  face was proof enough that he was withholding the urge to yell at the boy.

“So…” Bilbo started, feeling that some conversation was better than the off key singing emanating from the passenger row. “ABBA? Does he know every song, or just Waterloo?”

“My mother,” Thorin grumbled, “plays nothing but ABBA when she watches the boys. Then records them singing along on her phone so she can properly embarrass them once they’re old enough to realize their Gram is a monster.”

Bilbo threw his head back and laughed, positive that Thorin was speaking from experience. He wiped at the tears streaming down his face and began to sing along with Kili. “Don’t encourage him,” Thorin groaned, just as Kili hoorayed.

“Uncle Thorin,” Kili said, kicking Thorin’s seat for emphasis. “Sing.”

“No, thank you,” Thorin replied.

“Don’t be such a grumpy gills,” Bilbo teased, winking back at Kili.

“Uncle knows all the words to all the songs,” Kili insisted, just as the song ended. “He’s really good at singing.” Kili grinned at his uncle, unaware that he was currently embarrassing him. If the Valar existed, Thorin prayed they’d make the ground eat him up, anything to end the pain.

Thorin coughed, lowering the volume on the radio. “Where’d you say you lived again?” he asked, hoping to change the subject. “Underhill Drive?”

Receiving no answer, Thorin risked a look at Bilbo who was smiling contemplatively at him. “What?”

“You’re a big softie, aren’t you?”

Thorin spluttered. Him? A softie! He wrestled a mountain lion once! Well, the boys thought he did, which was basically the same thing. He was rugged and masculine and not soft at all. Unless Bilbo liked that, then yes, he was a giant marshmallow. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Thorin sniffed, turning onto what he assumed was Bilbo’s street.

“Right there,” Bilbo said, pointing at a two story house at the corner.

He stepped out of the car as Thorin parked in the drive. “Thanks,” Bilbo said as Thorin rolled down the passenger window. “For the ride.”

“No problem,” Thorin smiled, fingers tapping away on the wheel.

“Unlock the door,” Kili complained. Thorin looked over his shoulder to find Kili unbuckled and out of his booster seat, aggressively pulling on the car door handle. “I want to get out.”

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“I’m going to walk Mr. Boggins to the door.”

“Get back in your seat,” Thorin ordered.

He sent a helpless look at Bilbo who found the whole situation absolutely endearing. “I don’t think he’s going to give up,” Bilbo noted.

Thorin just wanted to get this day over with. Was that too much to ask? “Let him out,” Thorin sighed, unbuckling his own seatbelt and getting out of the car. He wasn’t going to be outdone by his five year old nephew.

Which was actually really sad, Thorin thought to himself. Kili was able to make a better impression than he could even dream to achieve. Kili had that cute child factor going for him, so it wasn’t like Thorin could even begin to compete with that.

Not that he was competing.

Oh, who was he kidding? He was most definitely competing and totally losing. He clenched his jaw as Kili took hold of Bilbo’s hand, hopping and skipping towards the porch.

Bilbo unlocked his front door, leaving Kili and Thorin standing on the porch, one eager and the other miserable. He opened the door slightly, pulling it closed as he turned to Thorin and said, “The class is taking a trip to the pumpkin patch on Wednesday. If you’re available, we always need chaperones.”

“You should come,” Kili exclaimed.

“I know it’s a bit last minute,” Bilbo rushed out.

“Sounds like fun,” Thorin blurted. “I’ll be there.”

“Perfect!” Bilbo smiled, waving goodbye as he walked into his house, shutting the door behind him.

This was a good first step. Very good. Bilbo wanted to see him again! Thorin picked up Kili and spun him around, tucking him under his arm as he jumped down the porch steps and made his way towards the car.

* * *

Bilbo let his head collapse against the front door. Why had he asked Thorin to chaperone? He should have just asked him out on a proper date, not this underhanded shenanigans. The field trip had plenty of chaperones!

“I’m an idiot,” Bilbo groaned.

It’s not like he’d even be able to pay him any special attention. He had to watch small children, not flirt with the rugged uncle. How would he even begin to flirt? “Fancy meeting you here.”

Well of course he was there. Bilbo invited him! “Just act normal,” Bilbo scolded himself, taking off his shoes and padding to his study.

He should have just asked him out – like a normal human being – instead of taking the coward’s way out.  The man was probably in a relationship. Let’s face it, you don’t grow up to be that attractive just to be single.

“I’m pathetic,” Bilbo moaned, planting his face on his desk. So unbelievably pathetic.

* * *

Thorin avoided the looks of his family, choosing instead to grab a burger and go to the furthest corner of the yard. If they wanted to know how the drive went they could all interrogate Kili. That’s why they had let him tag along in the first place.

“You’ve got it bad,” Frerin commented, sitting down beside his brother, handing him a Coke. Thorin simply responded with a glare. “I haven’t seen you this worked up about someone since that lifeguard when you were sixteen.”

“Shut it,” Thorin grumbled.

“Come on. It’s funny,” Frerin insisted. “Hilarious, actually.”

“He thinks I’m an idiot,” Thorin admitted.

Frerin gently patted him on the back. “It could be worse,” Frerin consoled him. “He could hate you. And you’re hot, you don’t need to be smart.”

Thorin shoved Frerin away. This was why he didn’t like his brother. Because if anyone was an idiot, it was that guy, not Thorin. “So can anyone chaperone, or only emotionally constipated Durins?”

Yeah. A complete idiot.

* * *

“Looks like you’ve got a bad cooling fan,” Bofur said, wiping his dirty hands on his shirt as he came out from the garage and into the waiting room Bilbo was sitting in. “Shouldn’t take too long to fix.”

“Bless the gods,” Bilbo sighed, deciding now was a good time to slink down in his seat. “You’re a saint, Bofur.”

Bofur grinned, running an embarrassed hand through his hair. “Looks like you’ll have your car in time for that field trip, eh?”

It took a moment for Bilbo to understand just what Bofur was talking about. Had Thorin told him about his bad ploy at keeping him around? Probably went home and told everyone how completely enamored Bilbo was of him. He probably accepted just to be polite.

Perfect. Just perfect. Bilbo was quite prepared to die from mortification.

Instead he simply cleared his throat and asked, “Kili tell you all about it?”

“Oh sure,” Bofur replied easily, as if Bilbo wasn’t bursting with unnamed terror. “That kid loves pumpkins. And Halloween. He loves just about anything really.”

Bilbo chuckled along with Bofur. Maybe they didn’t know he had invited Thorin along like the desperate man he was.

“Thorin’s looking forward to it too,” Bofur said.

Or not. “Is he?” Bilbo questioned, his voice rising to dangerous decibels.

“Course!” Bofur declared. “Though, Bilbo. I think you ought to just ask him out.”

There it was. Goodbye world. If Bofur could tell that Bilbo had been coming on to him – and he wasn’t even there, mind – well then, Bilbo considered it all quite nice if he was struck down. He led a good life. A bit boring in some places, but relatively good.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Bilbo muttered, setting back down in his seat. If only it was that easy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah! New chapter! Woo! I am on fire! Next chapter is the pumpkin patch chapter. AHAHAHAHA. I've got all these chapters planned in my head and I can't wait because you're all going to scream at me. In a good way. Good screaming. 
> 
> So updates on life! Got a job *high fives the world* So chapters will once again be up in the air as to prompt updates, but like I said, I have the next couple of chapters planned so hopefully I'll be able to keep it weekly updates. Hmm... what else? I think... that's it! Cool!


	11. Pumpkin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Field trip to the pumpkin patch and bad flirting. HUZZAH.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I reused the chapter title from color me mine, but in my defense, this chapter actually deals with pumpkins. alright i'm done talking. GO READ!  
> Oh, also, sorry for not responding back to comments this time around, I'm really busy :C But i love you all and appreciate all of your comments :)

“Hurry it up!” Thorin yelled from the kitchen, helping himself to his sister’s coffee machine, inhaling the beautiful aroma of freshly ground coffee beans. His own coffee machine was a complete crapper and he sorely regretted buying her the thing last Christmas. If only he had been selfish, just once in his life, and kept the darn thing.

He downed the cup in two gulps, shouting again, “We’re gonna be late! And we’ve got to pick up Gimli!”

“Don’t rush ‘em,” Dis said as she walked into the kitchen, still clad in her pajamas. “They’ve got little legs.”

“Little legs my eye,” Thorin grumbled. “You should see them run when I tell them we’re getting ice cream.” He served another cup of coffee and held it out to Dis, who was stifling giggles with her hand. “What?”

She burst out into laughter, taking the proffered cup and setting it on the table before she dropped it. “Look at you!” she exclaimed, waving her hand at him.

Thorin looked at himself. He thought he looked pretty good, thank you very much. Boots, jeans, shirt: it was a classic look. He was proud of it. Perhaps he fussed a little longer this morning, but if he did, that was his own business.

“You’re all dressed up!” she continued. “That shirt’s brand new.”

“Is not,” Thorin countered. “Had it for years. It’s my favorite shirt.”

Dis walked right up to him and pulled the tag off the back of his shirt, holding it up for Thorin’s inspection. Thorin scowled, crumbling the tag and shoving it in his pocket. “I bought you that shirt,” Dis said. “Last year. You said you didn’t like thermal shirts.”

“It’s chilly out,” Thorin argued, stepping around his sister and towards the doorway. “Come on you beasts!”

Vallis stumbled into the kitchen, Kili on his back, Fili on his leg. “I’ve brought the rascals,” he declared with a  grin. He looked at Thorin and got a cheeky look in his eye as he said, “You look nice. Hot date?”

“Of for the love of – I’m dressed normally!”

“Uncle’s coming to the pumpkin patch with me,” Kili shouted in his dad’s ear.

Thorin smiled, ruffling Kili’s hair and lifting him off of Vallis. “If you don’t hurry up, we’re going to be late and we won’t catch the bus in time.”

Kili’s eyes went wide as he scrambled out of the room for his backpack, Fili following, making a competition out of who could get ready the fastest. “Don’t forget your jackets!” Thorin called after them. Someone had to. Their parents were too concerned with his love life to give a hoot about their sons’ warmth.

* * *

Bilbo was not nervous. He wasn’t fretting. He was perfectly fine.

Only Thorin was wearing the tightest shirt in the world and it was driving him insane. The minute he walked into his class room with Kili and Gimli in tow, Bilbo knew he had it bad. Seriously, did he have to be all muscly and bearded? He looked like a model for heaven’s sake. A rugged, lumberjack, model. Who was also probably a porn star.

He really had to get a hold of himself. It was unseemly to drool over his student’s uncle, especially while surrounded by a dozen or so students and their parents. Two parents. And one uncle. One extremely hot uncle. An extremely attractive uncle who was great with kids and had a great ass.

“Stop it, you,” Bilbo muttered under his breath, lightly kicking a small pumpkin.

“I’ll try,” Thorin responded, much to Bilbo’s surprise. He nearly jumped in the air, stumbling over loose dirt. Thorin reached out and grabbed him before he could fall, holding Bilbo up by his elbows.

Bilbo swallowed as he looked up at his savior. He really was gorgeous. Yavanna help him. “Thanks,” Bilbo coughed as Thorin set him back on his feet.

The two stood there, watching the boys run around, choosing pumpkins, changing their minds, and then finding others they wanted. It was really quite relaxing, as far as field trips go, it was the least stressful. All he had to do really was make sure no one wandered off and that they made it to the bus on time.

“Sorry,” Thorin blurted out. “For startling you.”

“It’s fine,” Bilbo replied. “I should probably stop talking to myself.” He chuckled self consciously. Ah yes, perfect small talk. What other bad habits did he have that he could admit to? Just tell him you talk to your plants as well while you’re at it.

Thorin chuckled awkwardly. Bilbo wanted to die. “I wanted to thank you,” Thorin tried, hands shoved in his back pockets (Bilbo tried not to look, considering those jeans were practically painted on him), staring off at Kili and Gimli fighting Legolas off of the large pumpkin they had claimed as their own. “For inviting me. Offering to – letting me come,” Thorin continued, biting off each sentence.

He growled, taking a hand and running it through his hair, pulled back into a half ponytail (Bilbo never realized he had a thing for long hair until this moment), looking at Bilbo with a pained face. “I’m horrible at conversation,” Thorin admitted.

Then suddenly it hit him. Thorin was just as nervous as he was. Why would he be nervous? _Probably because you’re a terrible flirt and he’s embarrassed for you_ , a little voice nagged in Bilbo’s ear. “What do you do?” Bilbo asked. “For work, I mean. Not what do you do about your bad conversation skills, not that they’re bad or anything, I think you’re doing a splendid job. Not boring at all. Aule, please shut me up.”

Thorin chuckled, shuffling an inch or two closer to Bilbo. “Thanks, I think,” he said. “I’m a park ranger. At Erebor Park.”

Bilbo lit up, barely noticing the way Thorin stiffened as he revealed his occupation. “Really? That’s so cool,” Bilbo exclaimed. “I have a friend that works there. You know Beorn?”

Thorin breathed a sigh of relief as he nodded enthusiastically. “He’s my boss.”

“That must be heaps of fun,” Bilbo went on. “Being outside all day, taking care of animals and saving forests. You do that right?”

“Something like that,” Thorin smiled, his grin getting wider as a blush bloomed on Bilbo’s cheeks. “If Kili tells you I wrestled a mountain lion, he’s not lying.”

Bilbo guffawed at that, not doubting for a second that Thorin could take on a mountain lion. If he was the lion he’d faint at the manliness Thorin exuded. “I can only imagine that conversation,” Bilbo admitted, wiping tears from his eyes.

“He and Fili are convinced that’s all I do all day,” Thorin continued. “They drew a picture once. I have it taped to my computer at work.”

“As a reminder of your victory?”

“More like so I can avoid all mountain lions,” Thorin said.

* * *

He was laughing. He was laughing at his jokes. Praise Mahal and braid his beard, this was all going brilliantly! Now he had to casually ask him out on a date. Simple!

But what if it was pity laughter? What if he felt sorry for him? Thorin couldn’t live if he knew Bilbo was just humoring him. He just had to stop his mind from going down that road. Bilbo was flirting back with him. This was good.

“What are you going to do with the pumpkins?” Thorin asked.

“We’re going to decorate them when we get back to school,” Bilbo answered. “Then the boys will bring them home on Halloween.”

He broached the subject! Perfect. Now Thorin had to segway, nice and easy. Don’t scare him off. Just casually mention it… “Bofur’s having a party on Halloween,” Thorin blurted, wishing he could hide his head in the dirt. That was completely subtle.

Bilbo looked up at Thorin in confusion. “Oh?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Thorin plowed on. He started the damn conversation and the Valar help him, he was going to finish it. “After the boys are done trick or treating, he’s having a thing. A party. Costumes and what not. Do you want to go? With me. Would you like to come with me to Bofur’s Halloween party? As my date. It’s a date.”

Bilbo gaped at him. Smooth. Pull over Casanova, there was a new heart breaker in town and his name was Thorin “Biggest Idiot in the World” Durin. “You don’t have to,” Thorin tried. “I just thought – I should probably make sure Kili doesn’t kill Gimli.”

He made his way to Kili who was shoving a pumpkin that was twice his weight into Gimli’s outstretched hands. That was only going to end in disaster. It was about time he stopped badly flirting and did his actual job: chaperoning.

Why did he think this was a good idea again? That’s right, because his family was the worst, that’s why. Just because you marry a guy when you’re six doesn’t mean you’re soulmates or something stupid like that.

“Wait!” Bilbo called out, jogging to catch up to Thorin. “Hold on. Thorin!”

Thorin stopped suddenly and felt Bilbo bump into his back. He turned around quickly to catch Bilbo, but he was perfectly fine, smiling up at Thorin. “I’d love to go to Bofur’s thing with you. As a date.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” Bilbo blushed. “Very much.”

Thorin felt like hooting for joy. Bilbo accepted his date. He and Bilbo were going on a date. He was so happy, he didn’t even notice Gimli topple over, a pumpkin pinning him down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *chortles maniacally* I literally just finished writing the chapter and I have to go to work, so i lucked out!   
> if you can think up costumes for thorin and bilbo (for the party) it'd be appreciated. even if they end up being dumb couple costumes. all i can think of is antony and cleopatra because i'm weird.   
> AUGH. I GOTTA RUN!   
> aardvark!


	12. Blood Orange: I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Costumes revealed, Thorin plots, and a date begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried writing this last night, hated it, and rewrote it all this morning. And it's not even done, because i could keep writing for a thousand years. So this chapter is broken into two. I'm going to put up the Halloween party chapter up either on or before Halloween, I promise. I just really wanted to get this ch up before i went to work.

Thorin crept silently in the basement, opening a large plastic tub labeled **COSTUMES** and pulling out years worth of Halloween clothes. He quickly garnered a pile of old costumes, his frustration beginning to grow when he couldn’t find the one he was looking for. He knew it was in there. It had to be.

A soft squeak of floorboard above his head caused Thorin to halt his search, looking up towards the ceiling, praying for the person to walk away, and whoever it was, let it not be Dis. After a few minutes, Thorin felt it was safe enough to search once more, and dug back into the box with quiet gusto.

He let out a silent whoop as he found the costume he was searching for, stuffing it into his duffel bag. He put the rest of the clothes to rights in the container and put it back behind the stairs, proud of himself for not getting caught.

Five minutes later he was entering his sister’s house as if he hadn’t been crawling around in the basement for half an hour. “Morning!” he called, smiling down at Fili and Kili who ran into his legs, already dressed in their matching costumes.

It was a Durin tradition, started by his mother, for the family to wear matching costumes every year, and unfortunately, Dis took it to heart, dragging her older brothers into the charade despite their age. This year was X-Men, which was rather tame compared to last year. Last year Thorin had to dress as a dwarf.

And not just any dwarf, oh no, he had to be Grumpy from Snow White. The year before that he was a flying monkey, and before that Captain Hook, and  before that a crayon. It was, needless to say, embarrassing.

There had only been one costume he liked, one that he had locked safely in the back seat of his car, one that he was going to change into the second he was relieved of trick or treat duty.

“I’m X-Man!” Kili shouted, twirling so his long coat fluttered behind him.

“It’s X-Men,” Fili said, lifting his plastic visor so he could see in a color other than red. “And that’s the name of the group, not the hero.”

Kili stuck his tongue out, throwing a playing card at Fili’s face. “I’m X-Man,” he insisted.

“You’re Gambit, Kee,” Thorin said patiently, digging through the fridge for breakfast. “He manipulates energy.” At the blank stare by his nephew, Thorin clarified, “He’s really cool.”

“Cool!” Kili shouted.

“Cyclops is better!” Fili argued.

Thorin tuned out their fighting, waiting for Dis to make her dramatic entrance so he could drive the monsters to school. He wanted to confirm the time he was going to pick up Bilbo, and yes, while he could call or text Bilbo, there was something about meeting face to face that was nice.

“I’ve got your costume, Thor,” Dis chirped as she entered the kitchen, said costume in her arms. “You’re going to look amazing.”

Thorin clenched his jaw at the nickname, glaring at the yellow and blue monstrosity being handed to him. He really rather wouldn’t, thank you. “I’ve been thinking,” Thorin started, but quickly bit his tongue at the hurt look on Dis’ face.

“I didn’t go to sleep until two last night, finishing that up,” Dis said. “We’ve been planning this costume for weeks. You are going to be Wolverine if it kills me. Now go try it on.”

He trudged towards the closest room and stripped out of his uniform and into the Wolverine getup. When he stepped back into the kitchen, he did nothing to hide his grimace. He looked ridiculous.

Dis clapped her hands excitedly. “You look amazing.”

Fili and Kili gaped at their uncle. “I want to be Wolverine!” they shouted at the same time, jealous at how cool Thorin looked.

“I’m not wearing this to Bofur’s party,” Thorin declared.

“Thorin,” Dis chastised.

“No. I’ve got to make a good impression, and I won’t be able to do that dressed like this,” Thorin argued. “Bilbo would laugh me out of the room.”

Dis sighed, taking in the sight of Thorin in the skin tight suit. Honestly, she didn’t know what the fuss was about. Thorin looked good. He looked good enough to ravage. If she were Bilbo, she wouldn’t be able to keep her hands off of him. But seeing as they were siblings, that was actually really gross. “Bilbo would want to climb you like a tree,” Dis said instead.

“Bilbo?” Fili asked. “Kee, isn’t that your teacher?”

“Mr. Boggins?” Kili questioned. “Does Mr. Boggins like climbing trees?”

“Alright!” Thorin shouted, pulling off his face mask, hair tumbling out behind him. “I’m going to change. You monsters be ready in five or I’m leaving without you.”

Dis stopped him as he tried to escape. “You’re wearing this tonight,” Dis told him. “Don’t try to get out of it.”

“I won’t,” Thorin huffed, side stepping her and nearly bumping into Vallis, wearing his Nightcrawler costume.

“You look good!” Vallis exclaimed. “How do I look?”

Thorin ignored him, but the excited shouts from Fili and Kili answered Vallis’ question. Thorin really hated Halloween.

* * *

Bilbo’s favorite holiday was probably Halloween. Christmas was a close second, but nothing topped the excitement and terror that Halloween brought. Watching the décor turn orange and brown along with the changing colors of the trees was poetic to him. It made things symmetrical.

But despite his earlier eagerness, Bilbo felt a pit of anxiety bloom in the back of this throat, waiting for him to vomit It out in the most humiliating way possible. He almost wished he hadn’t agreed to the date with Thorin.

A party was a rather brilliant first date, if Bilbo stopped to think about it. There was no pressure to be anything or do anything, just stand around, complain about the music, and eat the snacks they had lying around, little finger foods that wouldn’t up any guest, even if they ate trayfulls. Plus it was a Halloween party, which meant costumes.

Which was the root of the problem. Bilbo had planned his Halloween costume ages ago, but now that he wasn’t just going to be dressed up for 6 year olds, he was slightly embarrassed to be seen dressed as a bumblebee.

Thorin would take one look at him and laugh him out of the room. The man was probably going to be something generic, like a vampire, or a cowboy. Though despite how typical those costumes were Bilbo couldn’t help but drool at the thought of Thorin in chaps or a long cape.

Woah, okay, Bilbo had to take a step back and douse himself in ice cold water. The point being that bumblebee, attractive did not make. Just because he taught children didn’t mean he wanted to look like one.

He spent weeks trying to come up an alternative costume, and Bilbo felt rather proud of himself once he found one. Bumblebee in the morning, Roman emperor in the evening. Perfect.

The best part was that Thorin would be none the wiser. Unless Kili mentioned it. That would be highly embarrassing, but Bilbo could always explain the change easily.

Bumblebees were for children, emperor’s were for muscular men who could do whatever they wanted to Bilbo.

Okay, Bilbo needed to reset his mind. He was going to go outside and greet children, for Aule’s sake.

He straightened his antennae as he bounced on his feet in the courtyard, smiling at his students who were dressed up as everything from super heroes to vampires. The excited squeals of students brought a smile to his face, especially when all the boys said that Bilbo had the best costume.

Maybe the costume wasn’t good enough for a hot date, but it was certainly perfect for eager 6 year olds.

“Mr. Boggins!” came the cry, and Bilbo looked up from his watch, only to feel his face go red as Thorin marched behind Fili and Kili, both boys dressed as… super heroes? Bilbo wasn’t very good at those sorts of things. Fili looked like Cyclops so… X-Men characters?

“Good Morning, Kili,” Bilbo said, avoiding looking at Thorin who was staring at his bumblebee costume. “And who are you dressed up as?”

“I’m X-Man,” Kili said seriously. Of course, he had no idea who he was.

Thorin coughed, placing a hand on Kili’s shoulder. “You’re Gambit, remember.”

“Yeah,” Kili agreed, nodding his head sagely. “He throws cards at people and they die.” He pulled an ace of diamonds out of his pocket and threw it at Fili who swatted the card away, deciding that hanging out with his baby brother was no fun and went looking for his own friends.

“Just don’t do that in class,” Bilbo said, risking a look at Thorin who was holding back a smirk. “What?” he asked him.

Thorin shook his head, flicking at one of Bilbo’s antennae. “You’re a bee,” he said.

“Yes,” Bilbo said with a  straight face. “Bees are favorite important. You should respect bees.”

“Oh, I do,” Thorin replied. “You look…”

Stupid. Like a child. Undateable. Did he have to trail off? Bilbo would rather he just spit it out already, instead of wracking his brain for a proper adjective.

“Cute,” Thorin finished, clearing his throat as he looked away. “So is eight fine? To pick you up.”

“Yes,” Bilbo readily agreed. “I won’t be a bee then, I promise.”

“That’s too bad,” Thorin mumbled almost too quietly for Bilbo to hear, but hear Bilbo did. Oh that man was going to be the death of him. “I’ll see you later then.”

Bilbo nodded, watching as Thorin slowly walked back to his car.

* * *

Frerin held two pumpkins filled to the brim with candy, flashing smiles at all the single mothers who were clearing checking him out. Maybe Dis would let him pretend that one of the boys was his kid. At least long enough for him to make a play.

A whack in the back of the head caused Frerin to trip making him nearly drop his cargo. “Watch it!” he shouted.

Thorin just ignored him, snatching the candy from his hands and putting it in the car. “Where’d Dis say they were going?” he asked, cursing, once again, the fact that his stupid costume didn’t have pockets. Frerin’s costume had pockets.

“Think she said she was going down Bellamy Ave,” Frerin stated, stretching his arms so all the ladies could see his rippling muscles. He was really digging this Sabretooth costume. Plus the fur made him feel like a million bucks.

With a nod, Thorin headed down towards Bellamy, picking up his pace as Frerin jogged behind him. It was nearly eight and Thorin didn’t want to be late. That would look bad on him. Maybe he could call Bilbo and let him know that trick or treating was running a bit late. That’d be the polite thing to do, anyway. He didn’t want Bilbo think he was standing him up.

A wolf whistle cut through the air and Thorin ignored it, just as he had been all night. This costume was ridiculous. “It’s not that bad,” Frerin said beside him. “You should be flattered that everyone wants to do dirty things to you. I know I am. For me. Not you. I’m flattered for myself.”

“You’re digging a hole,” Thorin muttered.

“Dis says you plan on changing for your date,” Frerin said. “I don’t know why. The second Bilbo sees you like this, there goes his pants.”

“I’m not like you, Frer,” Thorin grumbled. “I don’t want to just bed him.”

“You make me sound like a whore,” Frerin pouted.

“You are,” Thorin joked, putting an arm around his brother’s shoulders and putting him into a headlock, giving him a noogie.

“The hair!” Frerin complained, completely at the mercy of his stronger and older brother.

Dis held up two more pumpkins in her hands as she saw her brothers coming towards her. “We’ve got two more!” she shouted, her cape flapping behind her. She made a really good Storm.

Thorin released his brother and took the other pumpkins. “I’ve got to go soon,” he said.

“We’ll finish up this street and then we can pick up Bilbo.”

“ _I’m_ picking up Bilbo,” Thorin said. “I’m not being chauffeured by you like a teen on his first date.”

“You’re acting like one,” Frerin mumbled, only to be grabbed Thorin once again, pumpkins held in one hand.

“You better not change out of that costume,” Dis warned. “If you’re not Wolverine at Bofur’s party, I’ll shoot you.”

Thorin let go of Frerin, leaning in close to Dis, hoping that she’d catch the hysteria in his voice. “I can’t do it, Dis. I’ll be in costume, but not Wolverine, please,” Thorin begged.

* * *

Dis found the duffel bag in the back of his car and promised to give it back at the party, where Thorin could officially change. But first they all had to show up and show off.

So Thorin self consciously parked his car in Bilbo’s drive and trudged up the steps, spotting a bowl full of chocolate bars sitting on a table by the door, a piece of paper taped to the siding,  **Please take one** , written in neat handwriting.

Thorin rang the doorbell, pulling at his costume in an attempt at modesty. Mahal above, it left nothing to the imagination, did it.

The door flung open and Bilbo stared up at Thorin, mouth agape. “Hi,” Thorin greeted, clearing his throat as he ripped off his mask. “You, ready?”

Bilbo nodded dumbly, shutting the door behind him as he followed Thorin to his car.

“Nice toga,” Thorin said as he started the car.

Bilbo flushed, hiding his knobbly knees under the aforementioned toga. “Wolverine,” Bilbo croaked. “Nice. You look nice.”

“I look like an idiot,” Thorin grumbled. “But Dis does this thing, every year, where she gets us all to wear matching costumes when we take the boys trick or treating, and I’ve had to wear the most horrendous costumes known to man. This has made it onto the list.”

“You look good,” Bilbo said. “Better than my bumblebee.”

“I liked your bumblebee,” Thorin said, smiling at Bilbo. He tapped his fingers anxiously on the steering wheel, glancing at Bilbo every so often as they drove along.

“How was your day?” Thorin finally asked, deciding that small talk was good, especially when Bilbo lit up and told him all about the costumes his students wore and all the pictures he took.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH MY GOD, SO YOU GUYS GAVE ME A BAJILLION THOUSAND BRILLIANT IDEAS. So thank you all for your suggestions. I hope you ended up liking what I came up with. I honestly just wanted to see Thorin as Wolverine. Group costumes are so hard to come up with. For reals. Also, Thorin's change into costume is great. I promise. You're gonna die.   
> But don't get too comfortable, because things will be happening, also, Dwori will be happening. So prepare.


	13. Blood Orange: II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Halloween party/date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HERE HAVE 3K WORDS OF PURE HALLOWEEN FLUFF

Bilbo was certain Yavanna herself was testing him. _Let’s see how quickly Bilbo loses his mind_ , because damn that costume was tight. Thorin was all rippling muscles and hair, much like the actual Wolverine.

He had the sudden urge to call his mother and report to her how incapable he was of handling this situation. Here he was in a historically accurate costume while Thorin was flaunting his sex appeal.

Emperor’s weren’t sexy, what was he thinking. He should have come as a gladiator. The armor, lack of sleeves: that was something write home about. Thorin could easily drool over that image. All he had to show were his weak ankles and killer calves. What was this, the Victorian age.

Not that there was anything to do about the situation now, seeing as Thorin was currently parking the car.

Bilbo tried to relax and ease his breathing. It was just going to be a small affair with the Durin family. Like the barbecue. That was nice and small. Bilbo tried to forget all about that fainting part. Tonight he was not going to dwell on every embarrassing moment of his life. He wasn’t.

Thorin smiled nervously at him as he turned off the car, slowly unbuckling his seatbelt. “No matter what happens in there, stick to me like glue, alright?”

“I’m not going to get kidnapped,” Bilbo huffed, stepping out of the car and shivering as a cool gust of wind blew right through his tunic. He really should have worn something more than a tunic and toga. He was even wearing sandals for Aule’s sake. He’d be lucky he didn’t die of hypothermia.

The look on Thorin’s face was far from reassuring. He locked the car and led Bilbo – a warm hand on his back that made him forget all about the autumn chill – towards the only house with a pseudo-haunted house on their front lawn.

“Bofur really gets into it,” Thorin explained. “He’ll come at you like a toddler who ate too much candy.”

He rang the doorbell before ignoring all propriety and opening the door, a blast of music hitting them like a wave. “My whole family’s here,” Thorin shouted over the Monster Mash. “And they’ll most likely be as nosy as possible. Feel free to tell them to shut up.”

“That’s rude,” Dis said, smacking Thorin in the arm. “I’m gonna tell mom.”

“She’s the main perpetrator,” Thorin replied.

“I like your… cape? Sorry, what are you?” Bilbo asked, impressed by the quality of the costume, but not really sure what superhero she was supposed to be. He was never interested in those sorts of things.

“Storm,” Dis explained. “Ask Thor here, he’s big on the comics.”

“Thorin,” Thorin insisted before turning towards Bilbo to say, “And I only read them because Frerin would make me take him to the comic store and it was either blend in or stand there awkwardly.”

“He has a collection.”

It was clear to Bilbo that if Thorin could, he’d probably throttle his sister and then happily proceed to die of embarrassment. Honestly, Bilbo found it cute. He was slowly learning about Thorin, and maybe not the parts that he was ready to divulge just yet, but it was nice to know that Thorin was completely human.

“I may still have old copies,” Thorin admitted. “But that’s because I’m a pack rack.”

“They’re in plastic sleeves and everything,” Dis cut in. “He put a few in picture frames and hung them on the wall.”

“Don’t you have something better to do?” Thorin asked, jaw clenched. He glared angrily at his sister hoping she’d get the hint and leave.

Bilbo thought it best to end the fight before Thorin got too worked up. It was just like dealing with children. It seemed a teacher’s job never ended. He put a hand on Thorin’s shoulder and said, “I’m kind of thirsty.”

The look of relief on Thorin’s face was palpable. “Let’s go look,” Thorin said, making a grab for Bilbo’s hand only to be intercepted by Dis, who clearly couldn’t take a hint, by stepping in Thorin’s way. “Mama wants pictures,” she said, frowning apologetically at Bilbo. “Won’t take ten minutes.”

Then she called over her shoulder for Dwalin who led Bilbo to the drinks table while Thorin was shuffled away into the crowd of Durins. Well this was probably the worst date ever.

* * *

Thorin watched as Dwalin led Bilbo away, his sister forcefully dragging him towards his mother like a petulant child.

They had all bugged him for years about going out there and dating, they pestered him about Bilbo for days, and now that he was trying to put on the charm, in swoops his family to ruin everything. Would they ever be satisfied?

“What are you doing?” Thorin hissed, turning on Dis and Freya. “How am I supposed to hit it off when you won’t let me be physically near him.”

“Don’t be so dramatic, Pigeon,” Freya said, holding up her camera and taking a picture of his manly pout. “Give an old lady her memories. Soon I’ll be dead.”

The collective eye roll of her children was photographed for posterity. The amount of guilt she could dole out was impressive. Thorin was certain she had taken a class.

The next ten minutes were filled with over enthusiastic poses and camera flashes. After every photo Thorin would search the room for Bilbo, hoping to catch his eye and reassure him that he wasn’t (willfully) abandoned.

“Uncle, do your claws!” Fili shouted, Kili jumping up and down beside him for emphasis.

“Not now,” he said.

“Thorin,” Freya chastised, making Thorin sigh but cooperate, unsheathing his claws. He really had to hand it to Dis, this was some impressive work.

It was then that he caught sight of Bilbo and held up his hand, mouthing, “five minutes,” and hoping he didn’t just leave.

“Who are you talking to?” Kili asked, leaning over Thorin’s hand and searching the crowd. Thorin widened his eyes pleadingly at Dis. She had promised to keep Kili distracted all evening and it was about time she started doing her job. The last thing he wanted was Kili disrupting his date.

Disrupting it more than it was already disrupted.

Why did he think inviting Bilbo to a Halloween party where **his family** was, was a good idea?

“No one!” Thorin exclaimed, covering Kili’s face with his hands. “Hey, are those candied apples?”

Fili and Kili perked up, insisting they deserved the treats for allowing their Gram to take a million photos of them. Frerin agreed and took them away, winking devilishly at his brother.

Thorin ignored him, grabbing Dis by the shoulders and asking, “Where’s my costume?”

“Ow!” Dis complained, shoving Thorin away. “In the upstairs bathroom, you brute.”

Thorin shot off, quick as a whip, running up the stairs, peeling off his Wolverine costume as he went.

* * *

Bilbo stuffed another piece of licorice in his mouth, frowning at the pumpkin beer he had been trying to open for the past five minutes.

He looked up at Dwalin who was just standing there, arms crossed, cutting Bilbo off from the rest of the party. Had they planned to just hid Bilbo in a corner and suffer, because it was working. He understood that Thorin had an obligations as a member of his family, and yes, there were going to be some things Bilbo couldn’t partake in, such as family photo ops, but it was just rude to be forcefully taken from Thorin’s side.

This wasn’t Romeo and Juliet.

Bilbo was certain that Thorin’s family more than approved of him, if the way they tended to fawn over him when they spoke to him was any hint. Yet here he was, stuffing his face with candy and still unable to actually drown his sorrows in weak alchohol.

“Here, let me.”

The beer was pulled out of his hands and Bilbo glared up at the perpetrator, certain it was Dwalin, finally deciding to be nice. But rather than the leather jacket wearing Dwalin, it was Thorin, only he was no longer dressed as Wolverine.

“Here ya go,” Thorin said, handing the bottle back to Bilbo, cap laying on the food table.

“Hi,” Bilbo greeted, staring at his date and trying not to drool. Yes, Wolverine was all very nice and all, but a circus ringleader – that just proved that Thorin looked good in everything. From the knee length boots and tight trousers, to the gold vest under a white jacket with gold trimming, Thorin was absolutely breathtaking.

That was it, Bilbo was going to die a happy death. He’d like, “Murdered by Beauty” carved on his gravestone. “Is that gold embroidery?” Bilbo asked, turning Thorin so he could get a better look at his trousers and the design stitched there.

Thorin blushed, taking a gulp of his own beer. “Is it too much?” Thorin asked. “I can change back.”

“No!” Bilbo blurted, slapping his hands over his mouth. “You look lovely,” he added. “Better than me, anyway.”

“I think you make a very convincing emperor,” Thorin insisted. “I’d heed your orders without comment.” Bilbo blinked and Thorin seemed to realize what he had said. “Because you’d be king and I’d be like a person under you. Not under like – well I’d have to follow your – I’m going to shut up now.”

“Is this from one of your group costumes?” Bilbo asked, pointing at the getup.

Thorin nodded. “Kili’s first Halloween, Dis decided on circus. So I was ringleader, Fili was a lion, Vallis the lion tamer, Dis was an acrobat, Kili was the muscle man, and Frerin a clown. I look stupid, don’t I.”

“I like it,” Bilbo reassured him.

Thorin still looked unsure but didn’t say anything, pulling Bilbo towards the kitchen where the music was just a soft hum and there were no people to watch their mating ritual. “You hungry?”

“I ate like ten licorice sticks,” Bilbo confessed. “The thought of eating anything is making me nauseous, but I will not say no to that fruit salad.”

The grin Thorin sent him made Bilbo’s heart flutter. Thorin served him a bowlful and sat down on a barstool, patting the seat next to him. Bilbo obliged, hoping up onto the seat and munching on a strawberry. “This is nice.”

“Dis promised to keep Kili away,” Thorin said. “So hopefully he won’t steal you away from me.”

“Like he could keep me away,” Bilbo replied, clearing his throat in embarrassment. “So park rangery, how does one get into that?”

* * *

Dwalin stood in front of the kitchen door, holding off all nosy family members wanting to get a peak at Thorin actually flirting with another human being. He had been given a task and he wasn’t going to be distracted for the world.

“What’re you supposed to be?” Ori asked, grabbing a pumpkin muffin and nibbling the top.

Dwalin grunted, standing a little bit straighter and using his shoulders to block all sights of the door. “Orin Scrivello, DDS,” Dwalin said, pointing at the leather jacket over the dental shirt.

“It doesn’t work so much without the hair,” Ori stated.

He knew someone was going to make a bald joke. He never would have imagined it would be Ori. Fili and Kili maybe, Thorin most definitely, but sweet Ori? Never once crossed his mind. “Thanks,” Dwalin said.

“Don’t need to get angry,” Ori told him. “I like it. Your baldness. Sometimes I have the inclination to rub your head.”

Dwalin’s eyes grew large as a faint blush tinged Ori’s cheeks. “You’re drunk,” Dwalin said.

“I’ve only had one beer,” Ori protested, putting his hands on his hips. “I’m not even tipsy.”

Sure. Dwalin would believe that if his words weren’t slightly slurred. “Peter Pan,” Dwalin huffed. “Cute.”

Ori grinned up at Dwalin, twirling for him to get a better look at his costume. “Dori said I looked like a tramp,” Ori frowned. “Said my pants were too tight.”

They were in fact, way too tight. But at least he wasn’t wearing actual tights. Dwalin would probably pass out from the sight of that. “You look fine,” Dwalin said.

More than fine, actually. But Dwalin wasn’t going to say that because any second now Dori was going to bust out of the wall and cut off his penis and Dwalin was very attached to it. So he’d keep his hands and manly bits to himself, thank you very much.

“Where’s Dori?” Dwalin asked as Ori decided to lean up against the kitchen door beside him.

Ori shrugged, sighing as he rested his head on Dwalin’s upper arm. “Probably keeping Nori from getting shitfaced.”

Dwalin gulped. Firstly, Ori was not allowed to be that crude. He shouldn’t even know any curse words. Secondly, that meant he was here, alone, unsupervised. Dwalin could do anything and chances were Dori couldn’t do anything about it.

“Mmm,” Ori sighed, rubbing his face into Dwalin’s jacket. “I really want to kiss you,” he murmured.

This was pure torture. Dwalin coughed, looking around just in case Ori was lying about his brother’s whereabouts and said, “You swear you’re not drunk?”

“Nope.”

That was good enough for Dwalin, who lifted Ori and threw him over his shoulder, making his way to the closest bedroom. This was such a bad idea and Dwalin couldn’t care less. He’d liked Ori for years.

* * *

Bilbo snorted with laughter, forehead resting on Thorn’s arm as he continues his story. “And of course, Kili doesn’t understand what he’s saying, just kept calling the condos condoms, and Dis doesn’t even try to correct him. So he’s going around telling everyone at the shop that he was going to visit his grandparents in their new condom. It was horrible.”

“Stop,” Bilbo groans, clutching his stomach, trying to abate the giggles that were pouring out of him.

“And Fili’s trying to correct him, you know, but instead of telling him it’s condos, he says, ‘it’s condomminions.’ But he says it real prissy, like Kili’s an idiot,” Thorin chuckles. “Meanwhile, he’s just created minions for condoms.”

“I need air,” Bilbo wheezed, his laurel crown slipping off his head.

Thorin caught it just in time and righted it, handing Bilbo a glass of water so he could get himself together. “We taught him eventually,” Thorin finished. “Vallis was probably the most horrified, but that’s probably because they were his parents, and they said, “I like your new condom” in perfect unison after we arrived.”

“My stories are unfunny compared to yours,” Bilbo said. “I teach 6 year olds, but you practically live with them.”

“I liked your story about the kid who kept eating the play-doh,” Thorin commented.

“I still don’t understand why he kept trying to eat it,” Bilbo exclaimed, “when every time he tried it, he’d scrunch up his face and say it was gross. I don’t get it.”

“Kids are weird?” Thorin suggested.

Bilbo nodded in agreement. “Very weird,” he yawned. “Oh, sorry.”

“It’s getting late,” Thorin said, looking at the time on the microwave and realizing it was nearly eleven.

“I’m fine,” Bilbo reassured him. “Promise.”

“There you are,” Frerin said, head poking into the kitchen, Fili and Kili at his knees. “I told you your Uncle was hiding.”

Kili’s face lit up as he noticed his teacher seated beside his uncle. “Mr. Boggins!” he shouted, running to him and hugging his knees. “I knew I saw you earlier. Fili called me a liar.”

“You were too a liar,” Fili grumbled, followed quickly by a yawn.

“What were you and Uncle Thorin doing in here?” Kili asked, looking up at Thorin questioningly, big brown sparkling under the overhead lights.

Bilbo coughed, cheeks tinted pink as he tried to pry Kili off his body. “Talking,” Bilbo said, just as Thorin replied, “Nothing.”

“Say goodnight, boys,” Frerin said.

Fili and Kili tackled Thorin, and he lifted them in the air, pressing sloppy kisses onto their faces. “Night, monsters,” Thorin told them as he set them back on the ground. “And don’t forget about Mr. Baggins.”

Fili stuck out his hand and shook Bilbo’s hand goodnight very sternly. Kili simply rolled his eyes at Fili’s antics and placed a messy kiss on Bilbo’s cheek. “Night, Mr. Boggins,” he whispered, running out of the kitchen before Bilbo could properly react.

Frerin stifled his laughter, frowning solemnly at Thorin as he waved goodnight.

“Looks like the party’s over,” Bilbo said, ignoring the fact that Kili was a bit too enamored of him. He really had to nip that in the bud, and quickly, especially if he wanted to have a reasonably healthy relationship with Thorin.

If that’s what Thorin wanted. Because he was happy enough for a romp in the sheets, but a relationship would be very, very nice. It’d been so long since Bilbo had had one of those.

“I’ll drive you home,” Thorin said. “Let me just get my stuff.”

He smiled at Bilbo before rushing out of the kitchen. When he got a hold of Kili he was going to strangle him. Maybe not strangle him, he wasn’t cartoon character, but he’d most certainly give him the cold shoulder.

And now he was jealous of his nephew.

He needed therapy. Fifty years of therapy in order to make him normal.

He climbed upstairs and opened the first bedroom door, only to find Ori being pressed against the wall, legs wrapped around Dwalin’s hips. Thorin could do nothing but gape in surprise. He never saw this coming.

“Excuse me,” Thorin interrupted. Ori smiled at him as Dwalin cursed, setting Ori back on his feet. “I don’t mean to interrupt.”

“Wha’dya want?” Dwalin growled.

Thorin pointed at the duffel by the door. “The party’s over, you know. Dori’s gonna start looking,” were Thorin’s parting words, relishing the look of horror on both of their faces.

* * *

Bilbo leaned his head against the car window, humming along to the song on the radio, slowly drifting to sleep. The quiet in the car was nice, but they hadn’t spoken since Kili kissed him and Bilbo was worried.

Maybe they couldn’t make this thing work.

Honestly, all they had to do was talk about it. Would Bilbo like a second date? Yes, most definitely. He enjoyed the fact that Thorin managed to make a party much more intimate, with little distractions. Well little distractions after his abduction, and Thorin had apologized for that.

Bilbo was so preoccupied, he didn’t notice Thorin parking the car in front of his house.

“We’re here,” Thorin announced.

Bilbo looked up at his house in surprise. “Thank you,” Bilbo said, unbuckling his seatbelt. “I had a nice time.”

“Me too,” Thorin replied. He looked at Bilbo with his big blue eyes and Bilbo felt his heart catch in his throat. It was so unfair. “I’ll walk you,” Thorin declared, practically tearing off his seatbelt and running to the other side of the car to open Bilbo’s door.

They walked quietly up to Bilbo’s door and Bilbo was brimming with excitement. Was he going to kiss him? He really hoped so.

“I’d like to go out again,” Thorin said as they reached the porch. “If you’d like that.”

“I would. Very much,” Bilbo stammered. “Very, very much.”

Thorin looked up from his boots to smile at Bilbo. “How about next Saturday? We can catch a movie.”

“Sounds perfect,” Bilbo replied.

“Good,” Thorin nodded, rocking back on his heels. “So…”

“So…”

“Next week,” Thorin repeated.

“Yep,” Bilbo agreed.

And then, before he lost his courage, Thorin leaned down and pressed a kiss to the side of Bilbo’s mouth, pulling back almost instantly and stumbling down the porch steps. “Good night,” he called, tripping over himself to get back to the car.

Bilbo could just make out Thorin banging his head against the steering wheel before driving away, leaving Bilbo on the porch to catch his breath before it left him completely.

Now that, was perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes, thorin changed into a circus ringmaster. because apparently that's less ostentatious than wolverine. it's probably because Bilbo doesn't have a clear outline of his junk. Also, Dwalin has terrible impulse control and yes, he's the dentist from Little Shop of horrors because let's face it, Dwalin really enjoys being a dentist.   
> I.. do not have time to reply to last chapter's comments, but i'll do that after work/tomorrow before work. I'm just glad you all approved of Wolverine Thorin.   
> Happy Halloween my loverlies!


	14. Fiery Rose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is a second date. These two should get married already.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *RISES FROM THE DEAD*  
> I've just had a shit week. and a busy time before this. and writer's block. AND MY RIGHT THUMB HAS BEEN IN PAIN FOR A WEEK AND A HALF LIKE IT IS SWOLLEN AND TYPING IS TORTUROUS. but i bought a xmas tree and decorations, so things are getting better.   
> I'M SO BEHIND ON HOBBIT REVERSE BANG. so that might actually take precedence over the next chapter :C but i give you good stuff here. So to make up for my horribleness, here is 2.5K words of fluff.

Thorin stared at himself in the mirror and frowned. He looked stupid. He unbuttoned his shirt and began rummaging in his dresser in search of a shirt that didn’t say, “trying too hard.”

A t-shirt, perhaps. But what if Bilbo thought that meant he didn’t care at all. He never remembered having a wardrobe crisis on any of his past dates.

He took a look at himself once more and angrily tore off his jeans, his left foot getting caught in the trouser leg, tripping him onto his bed. Thorin shot up, hair flopping behind him as he pretended he didn’t just make a complete and total fool of himself.

He was cool. He was collected. His phone rang.

Thorin stared at the phone on the nightstand and cursed when he saw Dis’s name staring back at him on the caller ID. Maybe he could just ignore it…

Yeah, right. If he did that, Dis would come storming into his place and demand to know why he was ignoring her. Thorin answered the call, throwing himself onto his bed properly.

“Whatd’ya want?” Thorin asked, face muffled into his pillow.

“I have been calling you all day,” Dis hollered. “I even called Beorn, and Mahal above, you know how I dislike that man.”

“I don’t know why you dislike him so much.”

“I don’t understand his attachment to animals,” she complained. “It’s unnatural. Besides, you also hate him.”

Thorin made a face. He didn’t hate Beorn. He just couldn’t stand to be in the same room with him for longer than ten minutes. “I at least appreciate his quirks,” Thorin retorted.

“You appreciate that he signs your paychecks.”

“Did you need something?” Thorin asked, because he was having a crisis at the moment and unless Dis was willing to help him out without making fun of him, then he really had no need of her. He looked at his watch and cringed. He had to pick up Bilbo in thirty minutes and he was still in his underwear.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were going on a date?”

Thorin groaned. “I don’t have time for this,” he whined. “Yell at me later.”

“Wear that sweater. The striped one. And stop worrying,” Dis advised. “You’ll be great.” He wanted to tell her that he was not worried, just to be spiteful, but didn’t have the heart to be willfully impossible. Not when he was already  scrambling off the bed, getting tangled in his blankets as he rushed to his closet.

He didn’t remember even owning a striped sweater, but if his sister said he did, he must have. He shoved aside what clothes he had left in his closet and happened upon the sweater.

It was… horrible.

Thorin took out the grey and black striped sweater and felt the urge to burn it. He couldn’t wear this on his date. He’d look like a librarian, or worse, an accountant. He’d be laughed right off of Bilbo’s porch, only to find consolation with a cheap whore after getting drunk at a risqué bar.

He really needed to take a step back and look at his life if that was the scenario he cooked up for himself. He probably couldn’t afford a whore, no matter how much of a bargain they offered him. Nor would they want to, considering the sweater.

* * *

Thorin pulled at his collar, zipping up his leather jacket just a little bit higher. Hopefully Bilbo wasn’t vaguely interested in seeing what was underneath the jacket because Thorin wasn’t sure he’d be willing to show off the dreadful sweater.

Why did he take his sister’s advice? He should have just listened to his own head. Just because was fashionable and married, didn’t mean she understood Thorin’s dilemma. Women’s clothes were naturally cute and flirty.

What did Thorin have to work with? Fun, flirty skirts? No. The same old thing he wore every day. He couldn’t make a good impression wearing dirty boots and a hole filled shirt.

“What if it’s sold out?” Bilbo asked, bouncing up and down on his toes, a vain attempt to keep warm. He really wished he had brought a warmer coat, not this thin jacket that made him look dashing, but might as well be made of plastic, seeing as it kept him warm as much as a plastic bag. “Maybe we should have bought the tickets online.”

“It’s been out for weeks,” Thorin replied, taking a miniscule step closer to Bilbo. Not to warm him up, oh no. He just needed to see the movie times a little better. “I doubt anyone’s crowding to see it.”

Bilbo wasn’t so sure about that. He was positive the couple in front of them also wanted to watch The Tale of Beren and Luthien. Which was understandable. Nothing was more interesting than history and myth and so on and so forth. It was exciting!

And he’d been waiting weeks to watch the film. He just hoped Thorin wouldn’t be bored out of his mind. Oh god, what if they had nothing in common! Thorin didn’t look the type to bake, or appreciate a well made bird feeder.

Was it too late to turn back? Maybe he could say he left his stove on. Yes. That was a great excuse.

Thorin put his hand on Bilbo’s back and shuffled him forward, leaning in towards the teen in the box office and said, “Two for Beren and Luthien,” sliding his card through the slot in the window.

“You can’t pay for us both!” Bilbo cried, reaching his hand into the little slot, fingers just barely grazing over Thorin’s credit card as the teen worker stared at him in disbelief.

Thorin coughed in what could only be embarrassment, jolting Bilbo into the realization that he was acting positively Tookish. “I can just pay for myself,” Thorin rumbled, shrugging apologetically at the kid.

“No!” Bilbo shouted, releasing his hand and taking a step back, feeling the eyes of other movie goers boring into his back. “It’s fine,” he squeaked, ears turning red. “Just ring up both.”

Thorin gratefully took back his card and the movie tickets, grabbing hold of Bilbo’s hand and leading him towards the theater. Oh sweet merciful Eru, Thorin was probably going to take him out back and shoot him.

_Stop it,_ Bilbo chastised himself. He was so unbearably nervous and he couldn’t, for the life of him, figure out why. This was their second date. Second! He should not be having first date jitters. It was just impractical. He’d already kissed the man, for Yavanna’s sake.

Sort of kissed him.

There was some kissing, though not proper kissing.

Suddenly Thorin stopped, doubling over and wheezing with laughter. Bilbo just gaped, mouth hanging open like a dead fish. “That poor boy,” Thorin snorted, standing up, a giant smile on his face. He looked at Bilbo and chuckled, elbowing him lightly. “You’re insane.”

“I – I just thought it’d be rude,” Bilbo muttered. He had a job. He could pay for himself. And they hadn’t discussed who would pay for what. Bilbo was perfectly fine with footing the bill.

“Is your hand alright?” Thorin asked, examining Bilbo’s pudgy fingers.

Bilbo flexed his hands, trying not to blush as Thorin rubbed his fingers soothingly. Bilbo was certain that any second he was going to pass out from excitement.

“Popcorn?” Bilbo asked, walking backwards towards the concession stand, hand still in Thorin’s grip. “My treat.”

“Alright,” Thorin agreed, using Bilbo’s hand as a leash.

Some minutes later they were playfully shoving the other down the aisles, giggling silently as other patrons looked at them in confusion.

Thorin plopped down in the back row, popcorn skittering down his shirt. Bilbo frowned, stealing the popcorn away to keep it where it belonged, pointedly, not on the floor.

“I feel like a teenager,” Bilbo said, grabbing a handful of popcorn and stuffing it in his mouth, swatting Thorin’s arm as he rested his long legs on the seat in front of him, knees popping up. “Stop that.”

“There’s no one sitting there,” Thorin reasoned, leaning forward, his leather jacket pulling at his arms and molding around his muscles. “You’re just upset because you can’t reach.”

“I too can reach,” Bilbo exclaimed, shooting out his legs and looking up triumphantly at Thorin as his feet reached the seat. Thorin’s smirk was infuriating. Bilbo lowered his feet, fully aware that that was Thorin’s plan in the first place. He thought he was so clever.

“You actually fell for it,” Thorin murmured.

Bilbo yanked at a strang of Thorin’s hair, smiling in triumph as Thorin yelped. He looked ready to complain but the lights dimmed and Bilbo shushed him.

* * *

It was drizzling as they left the movie theatre, Thorin frowning up at the clouds as he raised his collar, glancing at Bilbo behind him who was doing the same. He smiled up at Thorin, shrugging as he pulled on a pair of mittens.

“You hungry?” Thorin asked, having the sudden urge to prolong the date as long as possible. Watching a movie with Bilbo was fun, but he wanted to talk to him, listen to his voice and watch him to flail his arms animatedly as he discussed his opinions on the film.

Thorin wanted to just soak him all in so he could remember him like this always, nose and cheeks pink, honey curls bouncing in time with their steps.

“Starving,” Bilbo admitted, clapping his gloved hands together, trying to warm himself up.

Thorin decided to take a chance and took one of Bilbo’s hands, their shoulders bumping into one another as they walked down the street to a restaurant not a block away. He refused to look at Bilbo, afraid that he’d lose his confidence.

For weeks now Thorin had imagined what it would be like to hold Bilbo’s hand in this way. To show off this lovely person and let the world know that Bilbo had chosen him.

“Where are we going?” Bilbo asked, wrapping his other hand around Thorin’s arm, clinging to him in a possessive manner that had Thorin’s heart pumping in excitement.

Thorin stopped in front of a nondescript door, the windows to the restaurant fogged, making it difficult for Bilbo to see inside. He looked at Thorin questioningly who simply held the door open, waiting for him to shuffle inside.

A blast of heat hit Bilbo in the face and he was quickly shedding his scarf and gloves, following Thorin as he chose a booth  near the back. A waiter came and handed them their menus, Thorin smiling at her as she left.

“Bombur owns this place,” Thorin admitted, unzipping his jacket and finally revealing his ridiculous sweater. “So pick anything you want. It’ll be on the house.”

Bilbo stared at the sweater, eyes glued to Thorin’s shoulders and he felt unbelievably self conscious. Damn this outfit and damn his sister.

Bilbo seemed to regain his composure and said, “Aren’t I a special one.”

“Only the best for you,” Thorin grinned, fingers tapping on the table as Bilbo blushed. He looked at his menu, so as to avoid eye contact and Thorin’s grin grew.

He wondered what the protocol was for the second date. Could he try to hold his hand over the table? Could he bring up the kiss – the stupid, impulsive, sad disgrace of a kiss? Was he allowed to discuss politics? What was he supposed to do now?

“I didn’t quite like how they adapted the story,” Bilbo said, eyes still glued to his menu. He glanced up at Thorin and clarified, “The movie. I felt they tried to squeeze in too much in two and half hours.”

“I don’t really know the story,” Thorin admitted. He had, quite honestly, agreed to watch the movie because Bilbo wanted to. Usually, he ended up watching children’s films, so this was a completely different experience.

“Really?” Bilbo asked, shocked. “I thought everyone knew of Beren and Luthien.”

“If it didn’t involve dragons, I really didn’t care for it,” Thorin revealed.

Bilbo threw his head back and laughed. “I remember that!” he exclaimed, just as the waiter returned.

* * *

Bilbo hummed softly along with the song playing on the radio, belly full of good food and a comfortable sleepiness overtaking him.

It was such a nice date, and Thorin didn’t even laugh when Bilbo accidentally spilled pasta sauce all down his cardigan. Well, he laughed a little, but not meanly. It was more like a soft chuckle, preceded by the passing of a napkin.

Truthfully, Bilbo didn’t want the evening to end. Tomorrow was Sunday, which meant he had to get ready for class on Monday, and he really didn’t want to return to reality. He liked being encased in the warm glow of a perfect evening. The last thing he wanted was to leave the car and return to his big, empty house.

How small it seemed when he was a lad, but living there alone, Bilbo realized how void of life it was. How much he wanted to fill it with noise and laughter, the sweet smell of doughnuts and muffins waking him in the morning.

He wanted to share it with Thorin, let him experience those memories and help him make more.

But he was lost in a daydream. It would be a long while yet before that was possible, if this even became more. And how he wanted more.

Thorin coughed as he parked his car. “I’ll walk you,” he murmured, undoing his seatbelt.

Bilbo put a hand on his, stopping him. “I’ll be fine. Besides, it’s cold out.”

He pulled back his hand, shoving on his gloves, muttering something about how it was pointless when he was already nice and toasty.

Suddenly, Thorin grabbed Bilbo’s hand, steadying his nervous fidgeting and righting the glove on. He leaned forward, stopping millimeters from Bilbo’s lips.

“May I?” Thorin whispered, and Bilbo nodded, gasping as their mouths met.

Bilbo melted in his seat, feeling the soothing stroking of Thorin’s hand on his own, the other gently holding Bilbo’s cheek. The car grew warmer and Bilbo swore he forgot how to breathe, inhaling Thorin’s cologne.

He hummed into the kiss, grabbing hold of Thorin’s bearded chin. It was so much softer than it appeared and Bilbo knew he loved the bristly texture already. It was like the comfortably itchy wool blanket he slept under during the coldest winter nights.

Thorin pulled away first, dazed, eyes at half mast, lips pink from abuse. “I had a great time,” he drawled, leaning his forehead against Bilbo’s own.

“Likewise,” Bilbo agreed. “Very, very nice.”

He met Thorin for one more kiss before jumping out of the car, the late autumn air knocking him back into his senses. He met Thorin’s stare with a smile, stumbling over his boots as he walked backwards towards his front door, not wanting to miss a second of Thorin’s smiling face.

Once inside his house, Bilbo leaned against the front door and let his knees buckle, sliding to the floor in an astonished pile. He fell to his side and rolled onto his back to giggle manically.

He had it bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for some strange reason i was really focused on hands in this chapter ??????? and i'm trying to respond to comments and if i don't i'm sorry i'm a turd monster. ugh, i have work tomorrow. i'm just in a grump funk. grrr. i hate everything. except bagginshield. bagginshield is perfect.   
> i think we might address the kili issue next chapter.... i really want to write an irate 5 yr old and i want to do it now.


	15. Scarlet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's kissing and kili asking too many questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M HORRIBLE AND TOOK FOREVER TO UPDATE BUT LIFE AND WORK AND HRBB. SO I'M UPDATING. BECAUSE IT'S MY BIRTHDAY AND I WANTED TO WRITE UNMITIGATED FLUFF EVEN THOUGH IT'S GONNA BE 11 AND I SHOULD GO TO SLEEP LIKE NOW.   
> (if you want to read the 1st of my 2 fics for hrbb2014, you can find it [here!](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2762129/chapters/6193799))

Bilbo sighed as he stepped away from Thorin, head gently tapping against his front door. “I should…,” he trailed off, staring at how absolutely gorgeous his boyfriend (yes, he was an adult and should say something more reasonable, like partner, or significant other, but boyfriend made him feel giddy inside and that’s all that mattered in the end) looked, cheeks dusted pink from the cold and lips slightly swollen from overindulgent kissing.

How had he gotten so lucky? Honestly, Bilbo was certain that the gods finally heard his prayers. “I’d like a tall, dark, handsome man to keep me warm at night. And let him not be an asshole, love Bilbo.”

And how they delivered.

“Tomorrow’s Sunday,” Thorin mumbled, nuzzling Bilbo’s neck, his beard scratching at the sensitive skin, making him shiver. Oh, he knew that that was his sensitive spot. The bastard.

“What’s your point?” Bilbo asked, hands weakly shoving Thorin away. “I’ve got a lesson plan to – plan.”

The groan Thorin let out brought shivers down Bilbo’s spine. “Just a cup of tea,” Thorin insisted, planting soft kisses on Bilbo’s chin, warming him from the brisk December night.

“Just one,” Bilbo relented, turning around to unlock his door, rolling his eyes as Thorin wrapped his arms around Bilbo’s waist, draping himself over the smaller man. “And then you have to go.”

“I will,” Thorin agreed, shuffling in after Bilbo.

* * *

Bilbo tangled his fingers in Thorin’s hair, pulling off the elastic holding Thorin’s ponytail in place and marveling at the silky softness at his fingertips.

He hummed happily as Thorin licked his way into his mouth.

Thorin approached kissing like a king going into battle. He came to conquer, and Bilbo was quite happy to let him do so. Not to say he was savage or rough or anything akin to that. He was still sweet and gentle, always concerned with Bilbo’s needs, which was nice, yes, but sometimes Bilbo wanted to be devoured.

He always had himself perfectly in control and Bilbo wondered what it would be like to have Thorin release his inner inhibitions; to let loose his passions and just ravage Bilbo’s mouth, and neck, and body.

Not that he’d easily let Thorin bed him. He wasn’t that easy. A month was hardly enough time to send out carnal invitations, but how much pleasanter it would be if the necking on the couch turned into touching (over the clothes, of course). Or maybe Thorin would leave more than beard burn.

(Bilbo almost had a hickey a week ago, and while he was frightfully embarrassed, he was also disappointed that it was very light and could be hidden by a well placed ascot.)

“Is this fine?” Thorin asked as he nibbled on Bilbo’s earlobe, tea completely forgotten, their mugs stone cold on the coffee table.

“Perfect,” Bilbo said, sighing in delight as he felt Thorin’s chuckle down to his bones. That baritone laugh that lit Thorin’s face up like a Christmas tree.

It was some time later that Thorin ceased his lazy kissing and cursed, rolling off of Bilbo and landing on the floor ungracefully. He scrambled to his feet and stared at the clock on Bilbo’s mantle. “It’s midnight,” Thorin said in explanation.

Bilbo understood that it was rather late, but this sudden urgency was unnecessary. They weren’t teenagers staying out past curfew. They were respectable adults (some more than others), and if Thorin wanted to snog his partner on the couch, then he ought to be allowed. In fact, Bilbo encouraged it.

“Afraid you’re going to be grounded?” Bilbo teased, sitting up, hair mussed and a dazed look in his eyes.

“I’m babysitting tomorrow,” Thorin explained. “Dis’ll kill me if I’m less than perfect for their arrival.”

“I find that very hard to believe,” Bilbo said. “I find you’re always perfect.”

Thorin gave Bilbo that smile, the one he saved just for him, the one that made Bilbo feel as if he was the only person in the world that mattered. It made Bilbo melt just a little. “You’re just saying that,” Thorin replied.

“Yeah, I am,” Bilbo said, grabbing Thorin’s arm and pulling him back onto the couch. “Stay.”

Thorin raised his eyebrows to his hairline, a blush beginning to bloom. He gaped openly at Bilbo, clearing his throat in that way he does when he’s nervous.

“You can sleep in the guest room,” Bilbo continued, slapping Thorin’s shoulder. He was not that easy, thank you very much.

He was tempted, Bilbo could see that.

The two would probably continue their idle kissing, maybe pass out on the couch, wrapped in each other’s arms. Besides, Bilbo was an early riser. He’d be able to wake Thorin in time to make it back home.

He wanted to know if Thorin was a snorer. Maybe he was a cuddler. Perhaps he was the type to hog the blankets or kick them away. Thorin probably looked like a god when he woke, or maybe his hair was a bird’s nest, drool caked onto his chin.

Bilbo wanted to know all these things.

“Just a few more minutes,” Thorin relented, throwing himself atop Bilbo and planting a wet, sloppy kiss on his cheek.

* * *

Dis was a rather patient woman.

She knew that now that Thorin was dating Bilbo he wouldn’t have as much free time. But he had made a promise to watch the boys and take them to that ice show while she and Vallis had a day to themselves.

They hadn’t had one of those in ages.

Which is why she was persistently banging on Thorin’s door like madwoman. She didn’t even care if she woke up the neighbors. What were they doing lying in on a Sunday at ten anyway?

They ought to wake up and do stuff. Shop for Christmas or something. Was Sunday just a lazy day now?

She pulled out her phone and dialed his number for the thousandth time. “Come on,” she muttered as Fili and Kili shoved at each other in the hallway of the apartment building, bundled up for the cold.

The phone rang out, giving her his voicemail. Where the hell was he?

“Sorry, sorry,” Thorin shouted, running up, hair tied messily in a bun, coat buttoned incorrectly. “I’m here.”

“Have fun last night?”

“Shut it,” he hissed, opening his door and hustling the boys inside, snatching off their hats and ruffling their hair. “Who wants waffles?”

“I do!” Fili and Kili exclaimed, dropping their coats onto the floor and running towards the pantry where Thorin kept his waffle maker.

Those two properly distracted, Thorin cleared his throat and unzipped his coat, a bright red lovebite on his neck. The look of utter glee on his sister’s face was a clear sign that she wasn’t going to let this go. He should have borrowed one of Bilbo’s scarves.

“Lots and lots of fun,” Dis sing songed.

“Don’t you have a date or something?” Thorin huffed.

“I think it’s sweet,” Dis smirked, pinching Thorin’s cheek. “My big brother, all grown up. Having adult slumber parties.”

“Get out of here.”

* * *

Thorin examined the love bite in his bedroom mirror, the boys watching cartoons in the living room. So maybe he and Bilbo got a little carried away.

It’s not like they had sex. Fortunately. Or unfortunately. Thorin still wasn’t sure which.

Their makeout session was enthusiastic, to say the least. Bilbo probably had many more hickeys on his own person. Mahal knows Thorin had a possessive streak a mile wide.

“What’s that?” Kili asked, causing Thorin to jump and knock his elbow into his dresser. The boy stood in the doorway of his room, a cup of milk in his hand.

“Nothing,” Thorin replied. “Need a refill?”

Kili held out his cup in answer. “Is that an ouchie?”

Thorin nodded slowly. “Yes. How about we go back to your brother.”

“How’d you get it all the way up there.”

“I fell. In the dark. And hit my neck. On… the stairs.”

“You don’t have stairs.”

“At Bil – my friend’s house,” Thorin tried. “Milk?” He shuffled Kili out of the room, grabbing a cowled sweater, trying his best to hide the bite.

The boy obeyed, skipping back into the kitchen, humming a made up song to himself. “Who’s Bil?” he asked as Thorin handed him his refilled cup.

“A friend,” Thorin replied.

“You don’t have friends.”

“What!”

“You’re a grownup,” Kili replied sagely. “Grownups don’t have friends.”

“I’m not that old,” Thorin mumbled.

“You’re as old as dinosaurs.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so sleepy. and i have work tomorrow :( sorry for not responding to comments. i'm the worst.


	16. Chestnut

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Xmas play 2.0, bring forth challenger one: Thranduil! Deja vu? Or maybe Thorin's always been a competitive loser.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM TRASH. HERE'S A CHAPTER.  
> so i've been having terrible writer's block, and life got kind of hectic for a while. send plenty of thanks to [tinker-tailor-strider-spy](http://tinker-tailor-strider-spy.tumblr.com/) for helping me get through my heinous writer's block. YOU'RE AMAZING.  
> also, [fanart for color me mine!](http://m-sock.tumblr.com/post/103549153127/pom-wanted-a-bagginshield-kid-au-so-i-kind-of-did)  
> shhh i can put this here.   
> So i know that it's almost valentine's day but we're getting a xmas chapter. because i had things planned ages ago and then... well then i didn't update.  
> Also, I've recently met some pretty amazing people on tumblr who are in this fandom and it makes me happy to know some of you are reading this fic and care about my dorky ideas XD  
> ANYWAYS, sorry about the super long wait. THE NEXT CHAPTER WILL NOT TAKE AS LONG. IF IT DOES FEEL FREE TO COME AT ME WITH PITCHFORKS, BUTTERFLIES, DOLPHINS, AND PUGS (things i am all scared of) TO FORCE ME INTO SUBMISSION. BECAUSE GODDAMN IT I AM JUST AS PSYCHED ABOUT THIS FIC AS EVERYONE ELSE.  
> okay i'm done. ENJOY!! :)  
> (also i'm finally replying to comments. i know. i am the worst)

Kili was very serious that evening as he ate his pizza, grease staining his mouth. Dis raised a concern brow, but didn’t push the issue.

He had gone to school a bright and sunny boy, but returned with a crinkle in his brow. It was actually quite reminiscent of Thorin’s own thinking face. Dis was certain she had a picture of it somewhere…

“Kili?” Thorin asked – and, oh look! There was the trademarked look – filling his nephews cup with more apple juice. “Are you alright?”

He nodded, sipping at his juice. “Does Santa Claus exist?” he asked, causing his parents and uncle to choke on their pizza, not sure how to answer.

Fili’s eyes grew wide as he looked to the adults for guidance. He too was beginning to have doubts about the man in red, particularly with his classmates declaring him unreal. He didn’t realize Kili was also having a similar crisis.

“He exists, right?” Fili chimed in, wiping his greasy hands on his jeans, Dis making a face. That stain was never going to come out.

“Did someone say he didn’t?” Vallis asked, handing over a napkin to both of his sons.

Kili nodded. “Mr. Greenleaf’s helping Mr. Boggins with the play and he said that everyone knew Santa Claus wasn’t real,” he revealed. “And he’s a grownup.”

“Well Mr. Greenleaf,” Thorin bit out, just picturing the tall, blonde man with his designer shoes and fancy car, who thought he was tough stuff all because he was an environmental lawyer, “is a soulless jerk who never got any Christmas presents because he never behaved as a child.”

Fili and Kili’s eyes went wide. How bad had Mr. Greenleaf been? Fili and Kili had their moments, but he must have done something more terrible than accidentally setting fire to the living room rug, because they both got presents that year anyway.

“Hold on,” Dis said, suddenly catching up to the conversation. “What play?”

“The Christmas play!” Kili shouted.

“Holiday play,” Vallis corrected. “We’ve got to be P.C.”

Thorin rolled his eyes. “P.C. my a – ” he cut himself off, remembering he was in the presence of children, his sister looking less than impressed at his vocabulary. “What are you gonna be?”

“A candy cane,” Kili grinned. “Mr. Boggins said I was made for the part.”

More like, the only one with enough energy to jump around the stage.

Fili had taken part in the same play just the year before, playing something more reasonable, like an elf. Dis remembered the child who played the candy cane. It was like watching a human disaster. “That’s very nice,” she smiled.

“Hold on,” Thorin blurted. “Mr. Greenleaf is volunteering? What’s he doing? Feeding you vegetarian burgers?”

“Thorin,” Dis chastised.

Kili didn’t understand what they were arguing about but shook his head anyway, assuming his uncle was just being funny. “Um… he’s mainly bringing snacks,” Kili said. “And telling us where to stand.”

Thorin’s eyebrows rose. “He’s directing,” Thorin blurted. “Who’s stupid idea was that!”

“Ooooh,” Fili and Kili said unison. “Uncle said a bad word.”

Vallis just shook his head, grabbing another slice of pizza and placing it on Thorin’s plate. “Who feels like watching The Grinch?”

“ME!” the boys shouted, hopping out of their seats and rushing to the living room, shoving each other out of the way to reach the DVD player first.

The subject was, for now, dropped.

* * *

Bilbo was surprised to see Thorin at his door on a sunny Saturday afternoon. From he recalled they hadn’t scheduled a date. Thorin usually used this time to watch the little scamps, as he liked to call his nephews, especially now that his sister was trying to be sneaky with her Christmas shopping.

“Hi,” Bilbo smiled, hiding the twinkle lights he had been tangled in not a minute earlier, behind his back.

“I’m not intruding, am I?” Thorin asked, looking contrite, cheeks tinged pink with cold.

“Actually,” Bilbo brightened. “This is perfect timing. How do you feel about putting up Christmas lights?”

Fifteen minutes later Thorin stood atop a ladder, trying to attach light clips to Bilbo’s gutter. “This wasn’t what I had in mind when I came over,” he commented.

Bilbo snorted from where he stood below his partner, spotting the ladder. “I’ll reward you later,” Bilbo replied.

Thorin hid his grin in his scarf, numb fingers attaching the light string to the clip. “Kili told me about the play,” he carefully brought up. He couldn’t quite remember if Bilbo had told him about it, thought it would explain why they had seen so little of each other these past weeks.

“The kids seem to be enjoying themselves,” Bilbo replied. “At least, it taxes their energy. Sorry I haven’t called.”

“You’re busy,” Thorin said. He wasn’t a teacher, but he knew that teaching was hard work, and Bilbo put a lot of heart into his job. It’s one of the reasons Thorin admired him so. “Is Thranduil really helping?” he asked, playing it ever cool.

“Mr. Greenleaf,” Bilbo sighed. “He’s very…”

Obnoxious? Rude? Conceited? The worst person living on the planet?

“Dedicated,” Bilbo finished. “He’s got a thousand ideas for the play and I’ve got a set budget. Not to mention 3 weeks until the actual performance.”

“I can help,” Thorin blurted.

Bilbo’s eyes widened, his smile broadening. He hopped up and down in joy, wobbling the ladder.

“Careful,” Thorin cautioned, trying to steady himself by holding onto the roof of Bilbo’s house.

“That’d be marvelous,” Bilbo breathed. “You’re a life saver.”

* * *

Thorin stood rather uncomfortably in front of at least two dozen young boys, all looking up at him in various degrees of awe and fright. He tugged at the hem of his t-shirt, swallowing nervously as Bilbo introduced him.

“This is Mr. Durin,” Bilbo told the boys. “He’s here to help with our play.”

“That’s my Uncle Thorin,” Kili boasted. A few of the boys nodded, even more infatuated than they were a second ago. They had heard tales of the impervious Uncle Thorin. According to rumor, he had killed a mountain bear with his bare hands.

A few others recognized him from their trip to the pumpkin patch, smiling at him like he was the sun. They all remembered how he carried half of the classes’ pumpkins to the bus. He was what they all secretly wished to be like. Plus his beard looked really soft.

There were even some boys from Thorin’s classes at Erebor Park.

Needless to say, he was very popular.

“Hi, Mr. Durin,” the kindergarteners shouted in unison.

“Hello,” Thorin replied, wiggling his fingers at them. The boys broke out into giggles.

Thranduil snorted from where he sat, long legs straining within the child sized auditorium seats. Thorin resisted glaring, if only barely. He was doing this for Kili and Bilbo, _not_ to one up that conceited asshole. That was just an added bonus.

Bilbo clapped his hands, getting his class’ attention. “Mr. Greenleaf, if you could please start rehearsal, I’ll show Mr. Durin here just exactly what he’ll be doing.”

“Come on kids, “ Thranduil announced, lazily extorting himself from his trapped position. “Let’s work on the opening number.”

The kindergarteners rushed around him as Bilbo led Thorin to the back of the stage.

“Mr. Durin,” Thorin grinned lecherously.

Bilbo scoffed, lightly slapping him in the arm. “Hush you,” he scolded.

“MMM, I like it,” Thorin replied huskily, leaning forward to whisper in his ear, “Mr. Baggins.”

“Thorin,” Bilbo hissed, a spark going down his spine. “We’re in public.”

“No, we’re not,” Thorin said, wrapping an arm around Bilbo’s waist, pressing a soft kiss to his neck. “Everyone’s on the other side of the stage.”

“Exactly,” Bilbo sniffed, fighting his way out of Thorin’s grip. “Dirty old man.”

Thorin barked out a laugh, shrugging at Bilbo’s glare. He couldn’t help himself. Something about Bilbo made him drop all inhibitions.

They kept a good two feet between them as Bilbo led Thorin to the prop room, doubling as the “let’s put all the junk we can find in here” room.

Bilbo stopped before three or four wooden backdrops, the paint chipping and the wood warped and molding. “There was a flood in the basement a few months ago,” Bilbo explained. “I was thinking we could sand it down, maybe. Repaint it.”

It was plain to see that the set drops were unfixable. Thorin grimaced, running his hands over the less damaged parts of the wood, only to find it more traces of mildew. Aside from health hazards, they barely looked sturdy. “They’re not worth salvaging,” Thorin said.

“I was afraid you’d say that,” Bilbo groaned, shoulders drooping. “I doubt we have the budget for it. We spent most of it on costumes.”

Thorin was not usually one for jumping the gun. He was methodical. It took him three months to decide whether he should change his shampoo brand (he decided against it anyway). But something about Bilbo made him lose all of his inhibitions.

“I’ll pay for it,” he said.

“I couldn’t ask you to do that,” Bilbo told him.

“Think of it as a donation,” Thorin replied. “It’s Christmas!”

“You don’t like Christmas,” Bilbo reminded him.

“But I like you,” Thorin said.

Bilbo felt his cheeks grow hot, pinching Thorin’s arm when he laughed at his blush. That stupid man was going to send him to an early grave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thorin and bilbo are losers and i am their bitch. 
> 
> XMAS PLAY!!! 2.0 
> 
> NEXT CHAPTER! look forward to the return of the bilbo/thorin xmas play video, and Kili's discovery of his dear uncle's betrayal!


	17. Cinnamon Satin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The discovery! Christmas and the play loom closer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've been sitting on this chapter for about two weeks. I don't like it. I'm still not satisfied. Nothing I write is good enough. And I hate the world (i've got some terrible writer's block)  
> But here it is, because chances are it's not as terrible as I think it is. Hope you all enjoy.

Nearly every day at one, Thorin would find himself backstage, sawing and hammering, sweat dripping down his nose as he tried to recreate the old set pieces. It hadn’t seemed too difficult to replicate, but he had forgotten about all the little distractions.

“Did you really wrestle a bear?” a boy asked, looking up at him with bright green eyes.

“It was a mountain lion,” Gimli piped in, his bright frizzy hair falling into his eyes.

“Ada says there’s no mountain lions in Erebor Park,” Legolas told the gathering group.

Gimli stamped his chubby foot. “Your dad is a liar,” he defended his uncle, who could do nothing but look around for Bilbo.

It seemed he got the message, for Bilbo was there in seconds. “Gimli!” Bilbo scolded, marching towards the three boys. “Apologize to Legolas this instant.”

“No,” he grumbled.

Legolas’ eyes filled with tears as he shouted, “You’re dumb and I hate you.” He ran off, Bilbo chasing after him.

Where small children always this melodramatic, or only the ones Thorin knew?  “Go apologize,” Thorin told Gimli. “Or I’ll tell your Da.”

Gimli grumbled under his breath but trudged after the blonde boy. Which still left the green eyed boy.

“Did you kill a mountain lion bear with your bare hands?”

Thorin felt a headache coming on. Damn his impulsiveness. “There aren’t any mountain lions in Erebor,” he told the boy. As much as he didn’t want to destroy his dreams, he felt it was best not to lie to the child.

Though it seemed to have the opposite effect. “Woah,” he breathed, completely astonished. “You got rid of all of them!” He pulled at his brown locks in excitement, running towards his friends to spread the good news before Thorin could stop him.

That… was probably bad.

“Nice to see you made my boy cry,” Thranduil drawled.

Thorin almost forgot Thranduil was part of this project. Almost.

They barely spoke, aside from when Thranduil shouted that Thorin was being too loud with his hammering and drilling that it was any wonder he could hear himself think, let alone have a proper rehearsal. Bilbo would always settle things, but he was nowhere in sight.

“For such a concerned father, I’m surprised you’re not comforting him,” Thorin growled, wiping his hands free from sawdust. Honestly, who actually procreated with this man. “And Gimli was the actual perpetrator, if you want to know who to accuse.”

So he went and ratted out his own nephew. Age meant little in the face of maturity, and they were second cousins, so blood wasn’t that thick. He’d explain it to Gloin later.

“Is there something in particular you wanted?” Thorin asked, standing the set piece and marveling at his skills. Yeah, he was that good.

Thranduil scoffed. As if he could possibly need anything from Thorin. The nerve of that guy. “Look here, you pompous – ”

“Thorin!” Bilbo shouted, grabbing Thorin’s arm and smiling apologetically at Thranduil. “Legolas and Gimli are all made up.”

Thranduil brightened. “That’s wonderful, thank you, Bilbo,” he said, heading back towards the boys who were practicing their lines with one of the teacher assistants.

 “Since when does he call you Bilbo?” Thorin hissed, fingers clawing into his partner’s arm. “You’re best friends now?”

“Calm down,” Bilbo scolded, far from pleased at Thorin’s jealous behavior. “It’s my first name, _Thorin_ , he’s allowed to call me by it. It’s not illegal.”

“I don’t like him,” Thorin grumbled.

Bilbo pinched Thorin’s arm, who yelped. “Grow up,” Bilbo told him.

“I’m very grown up,” Thorin exclaimed. “But that guy – ”

“That guy, is helping with this play, same as you.”

That was completely beside the point. Thranduil was the slimiest, worst, pigheaded man on the planet, and here he was, prancing about with his perfect blonde hair and his eyebrows, acting as if he was the sun and moon, when everyone knew he was more like a gaping black hole that sucked the fun out of everything.

A soft kiss on his cheek drew him from his thoughts. “Cheer up,” Bilbo smiled, patting his beard covered cheek. “The play’s next week and then you’ll never have to see him again.”

“Mr. Baggins!” came the shouts of several boys and Bilbo sprung back, hands fidgeting, suddenly at a loss of what to do with himself. “Where’s Mr. Baggins?”

“You should get back to work,” Thorin rumbled. “I promise not to murder Thranduil.”

“Good.”

* * *

Kili was not happy.

“He’s been glaring at me since school let out,” Thorin told Dis. “I think he hates me.”

“He doesn’t hate you.”

Kili hated him.

His own uncle. How could he? Kili trusted him! And yet there he was, kissing Mr. Boggins. KISSING.

They hadn’t seen him, but when all the boys were calling for Mr. Baggins, Kili volunteered to search for him and what did he find?

He found his future husband and his horrible, traitorous uncle being touching and kissing and smiling at each other. Uncle Thorin was a – a – a backstabber! That’s what he was.

A no good, dirty, two faced son of a jackal!

So Kili did what any sensible six year old would do. He glared and he hissed and he pretended like Thorin didn’t exist, because family didn’t go stealing future husbands away from each other. They helped you get that future husband.

Fili sat on his bed, trying to finish his spelling homework, when Kili flung open the door and threw himself onto his own bed.

“What’s wrong?” Fili asked, not completely interested in Kili’s problem, but feeling it was his brotherly duty to ask.

Kili’s answer was muffled into his pillow and Fili set down his pencil. “What?” he asked, climbing onto Kili’s own bed, trying to get closer.

“Uncle Thorin stole Mr. Boggins,” Kili repeated, a hopeless mess on his bed. The world had ended. He would never know happiness ever again.

Fili wasn’t sure if he heard correctly. “Stole?”

“Yes!” Kili exclaimed, sitting up, hair whipping behind him and getting in his brother’s mouth. “He and Mr. Boggins were,” and here he looked around whispered, “kissing.”

“Oh.” In all honesty, Fili couldn’t imagine Uncle Thorin kissing anyone. He kissed Fili and Kili all the time, and Grandma, and their mom, but willfully kissing someone. That didn’t sound like him at all. “Are you sure?”

“I saw them!” Kili shouted. “With my two eyes!” He pointed at said eyes, open wide and making him seem slightly crazed. “They’re going to get married,” he sobbed, throwing himself back onto his bed.

“If that happened,” Fili reasoned, “then Mr. Boggins would be our uncle.”

Kili looked up at his brother with a frown. “I want to be his husband, not his nephew.”

Well, you couldn’t argue with that logic. As much as he admired his uncle, Kili was his little brother, and his Mama had always insisted that he look out for Kili, no matter what.

He patted Kili’s head and tried to think up a plan to take Mr. Boggins back from Uncle Thorin and in the waiting arms of his brother.

* * *

Bilbo wasn’t really sure what was going on.

The moment Kili came to class, he attached himself to Bilbo, and refused to leave his side for anything less than snack time, and even then, he kept his eyes glued to Bilbo, as if at any moment he was going to disappear when he wasn’t looking. It was very strange.

And then, the ultimate kicker, was when he was the only child not excited to see Thorin. All the other boys ran to Thorin as he handed out high fives and a few hugs, but not Kili. Instead, he wrapped his arms around Bilbo’s leg and glared at his uncle.

“Hey, Kili,” Thorin smiled, ruffling his hair.

Kili ignored him, turning his head away, trying to get out of Thorin’s grasp. Thorin was visibly hurt, but didn’t push, stepping away from Kili. “I’ve brought the paint,” he told Bilbo. “You’ll know where to find me.”

Once Thorin headed backstage, Kili relaxed, completely smug. It seemed like Fili’s plan was going to work. As long as he kept Mr. Boggins in his sights, Thorin couldn’t try anything with him.

Bilbo wanted to ask Thorin what was wrong, but Kili wouldn’t let him go. So in the end, he simply gave up, deciding that he had to focus on the play, not stealing kisses from Thorin when no one else was looking.

* * *

“Trouble in paradise?”

Thorin glared up at Thranduil, resisting the urge to fling bright red paint onto his vegan leather shoes. “What do you want?” Thorin asked. He only had a few more days to paint these things before the actual play. He really didn’t need Thranduil breathing down his neck and being a general pain.

“You and Bilbo are usually back here, canoodling,” Thranduil stated. “I’m just a little surprised, that’s all.”

Canoodling! Thorin tried to fight his blush, dropping his paintbrush onto the tarp. “I’ve noticed the boys are a little flat in the opening number,” he said, changing the subject. “You might want to fix that before the big night.”

Thranduil smirked. “You really thought you were being sneaky, weren’t you? I could report this, you know.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Thorin grit out between his teeth. “And if I did, I can just tell you that seeing as I’m not the legal guardian of any of his students, you can’t do anything.”

War had been declared.

If Thranduil thought he could scare Thorin off of Bilbo, then he had another thing coming. It was just like Kindergarten all over again. But he was older, much more mature. He wasn’t going to accidentally sprain his ankle. This time he was going to utterly pulverize him.

* * *

It was three days before the play and Bilbo was certain that he was going to have a nervous breakdown.

Thorin had finished the set pieces – thank Aule – but they still needed to finish making the costumes. Thorin had volunteered, which Bilbo found very sweet, but even with Thorin pricking his thick fingers every minute or so, it was still Bilbo’s responsibility to finish the rest.

It was only two or three reindeer costumes, but Bilbo had no time for it.

He still had to plan the potluck dinner afterwards, set up the recording, hold the dress rehearsal, make a speech thanking everyone, and plan the class holiday party before winter break.

Not to mention Kili was still attached to his hip, and he’d barely exchanged three sentences with Thorin in the past three days, not when children were screaming in his ear and Kili at his heels. The texts and the calls just couldn’t make up for a stolen kiss or the stupid smile Thorin got on his face when he knew he was being cute.

He couldn’t wait for the play to be over.

Bilbo made himself a cup of tea, sipping at it as he searched his cupboards for a nibble. Anything to appease his nervous eating habit.

He settled on the couch with his tea and biscuits, when his doorbell went off. Bilbo looked up in surprise. He honestly had no idea who that could be.

His surprise only increased as he opened the door, only to be bombarded by his parents, going in for a bear hug.

“Happy Christmas!” they shouted into his ear, Belladonna pinching Bilbo’s cheek as she rolled her suitcase into the living room, Bungo trailing after her with bags laden with food and presents.

“What’s this?” Bilbo asked, following them in a daze.

Bungo set his bags down, clapping his hands to warm them up. “Christmas presents,” his dad explained. “And a turkey, though that’s still in the car.”

“I mean what are you doing here?” Bilbo clarified. “I said I was coming down on the 23rd.”

Belladonna gave Bilbo a fond look as she patted his cheek. “I wasn’t going to leave you here to rot away just before Christmas! Now we can invite your boyfriend and his family over for Christmas and you won’t tell me it’s too far.” She beamed before shuffling Bungo right back to the car, gathering more bags and packages.

Bilbo wasn’t sure whether he should start crying. Though he might be able to convince his mother to finish the costumes. That was the only upside to this entire situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That little boy asking Thorin questions is Bain guys. Bard's gonna make an entrance! Is that Barduil I possibly see in the future? Idk. Idk anything.


	18. Polished Pine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin meets the parents! and Kili finally faces the truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SO SORRY FOR THE SUPER LONG WAIT FOR THIS CHAPTER. i'm just so stressed and tired and ugh. it's so not fair. BUT I FINISHED THIS CHAPTER. IT ONLY TOOK ME LIKE THREE MONTHS.   
> There's no Barduil in this chapter but the next chapter is the play, so I'm gonna work it in there. I haven't responded to comments at all and I'm sorry. I just don't have the time. and then when i do it's like "it's been ten years, do they really expect anything from me now?" so yeah. i'm the worst and i'm not worthy.   
> But in forgiveness I give you 2.6k words of fluffy goodness. Take it, my friends. 
> 
> (on another note!! i'm writing for the hobbit big bang so if you like reading about modern au bagginshield babies, perhaps you'll enjoy reading about canon baby!dain and baby!thorin and baby!dwalin. just, be prepared guys)

Thorin rang Bilbo’s doorbell, hands fisted in his coat pocket, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet.

As soon as the door opened, Thorin plowed his way inside. “He hates me. And now Fili hates me. And Dis says it’s just a phase, but what kind of phase is this?” Thorin said, hands fisted in his hair.

Bilbo stood there, trying to nonverbally communicate that they were not currently alone. But it went over Thorin’s head as he toed off his boots and hung up his coat on the coat rack, continuing his rant.

“I asked to read them a bed time story and they said, ‘no.’ No! They have never said no before. I even offered to sneak them ice cream and they slammed their door in my face,” Thorin shouted. “In my face!”

He pouted, pointing at his emotionally wounded face, puppy eye game strong.

“Thorin,” Bilbo tried, patting his shoulder. “Now’s not a good time.”

Thorin blinked, completely taken aback. Not a good time? Did he have someone over? Was Bilbo going to leave him too? It wasn’t good enough his nephews were against him, now Bilbo as well?

He took a step backwards, clearing his throat and nodding nervously. “Right,” Thorin said, stumbling as he tried putting his boots back on. “I’ll just… get out of your hair.”

“Who is it, bumblebee?” came a woman’s voice and Thorin’s cheeks pinked. Oh Mahal. It was happening. He was being replaced by a woman who gave achingly cute nicknames. Now would be a good time to go home and drink all his troubles away.

Bilbo blushed, putting his head in his hands as his mother came into the foyer, blonde curls up in a loose bun. She gaped at Thorin, a bright smile on her face. She clapped her hands and rested her chin on Bilbo’s shoulder. “Is this Thorin?” she asked with glee.

Her son’s nod was weak, but that didn’t deter Belladonna in the slightest, squealing in delight and stepping towards Thorin, arms extended.

“This is my mom,” Bilbo muttered, just as Belladonna held Thorin’s face in her hands, squeezing his cheeks and cooing over him.

“Hi,” was Thorin’s strangled reply. He felt like crawling under a rock and never coming out. How could he think Bilbo was cheating on him? He was an idiot.

“Look at you,” Belladonna exclaimed. “You’re so handsome!” She let go of his face and touched his arms. “And fit! Bungo! Thorin’s here!”

“Mum!” Bilbo cried, prying her away from Thorin and into the arms of Bungo, tinsel and pine needles in his hair.

“Mr. Baggins,” Thorin greeted, offering his hand, Bungo happily accepting his handshake. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Belladonna giggled, a high pitched sound that surprised Bilbo. Was this his mother? “He’s still so polite,” she faux whispered at Bungo.

Bilbo felt like throwing himself off a cliff. WHAT WAS HIS MOTHER DOING?

“I’ll set an extra plate for dinner,” Belladonna said, patting Thorin’s arm before flouncing into the kitchen, Bungo at her heels. “I made stir fry.”

Thorin stood there, one foot his boot, the other standing in a snowy puddle, looking at Bilbo in bewilderment. “I thought you were going to Hobbiton for Christmas?”

He was like, a thousand percent sure of that, because his mom had begged him to let Bilbo join them for Christmas, so he had to awkwardly find out his holiday plans. Not that he didn’t want to spend Christmas with Bilbo, it was just… they hadn’t been dating very long. And Christmas just felt very intimate.

Spending it together just felt like rushing. Luckily, Bilbo had admitted the same thing, so Thorin didn’t feel too guilty. It was partially the reason he volunteered to help with the Christmas play. They weren’t going to see each other on actual Christmas, so a Christmas event would do.

(Also protecting Bilbo’s virtue from shady Thranduil was also a major reason, but really, it was for sentimental reasons.)

Bilbo grabbed Thorin’s sleeve and led him into his office, papers strewn everywhere , a sewing machine sitting idle in the corner. Thorin grimaced, stuffing his pin pricked fingers into his jean pockets.

“They just showed up,” Bilbo groaned, pulling at his lovely curls. “Dad moved the Christmas tree to the other side of the living room, Mum’s already claimed my kitchen, and they won’t stop arguing over what they’re going to get your parents for Christmas.”

He threw himself into his overstuffed armchair, trying to gain back some semblance of control.

“I put up that tree,” Thorin replied. “How did he even move it? It weighs a ton!”

Really? That’s all he got out of that? Bilbo pouted, “You’re supposed to defend me.”

Thorin grinned sheepishly, leaning over Bilbo, brushing his errant curls off his forehead. “You’re right,” Thorin said. “Sorry.”

He placed a reassuring hand on Bilbo’s knee. “But on the bright side, maybe you could convince your mum to help with the play.”

Bilbo let out a breathless laugh, placing his hand over Thorin’s. “I was thinking the same thing.”

The flash of a camera pulled the two from their moment, turning to look at the guilty culprit.

Belladonna simply smiled, waving her camera at them. “You’re just so cute,” she told them, walking away, yelling for Bungo. Bilbo shook his head, but led Thorin out of the study, knowing that dinner was served and that the sooner they faced Belladonna’s pampering, the better.

“I’m not really hungry,” Thorin whispered in Bilbo’s ear, just as Belladonna pulled out a chair and pointedly demanded Thorin be seated.

“So, Thorin,” Belladonna started, eyes twinkling mischievously as she spooned an extra helping of what looked like chicken and broccoli stir fry onto his plate, “Bilbo tells me you’ve grappled with a mountain lion.”

Thorin nearly choked, coughing as broccoli went down the wrong pipe. He grabbed his napkin to contain any flying bits of chicken and rice, desperately reaching for his glass of water. Belladonna’s amused giggles filled the room, not at all tampered by Bungo’s disapproving frown.

Bilbo placed his head on the table. How long was appropriate to wait before locking himself in his room and not talking to his parents for the foreseeable future? It had to be somewhere between nearly killing his boyfriend and embarrassing him completely.

“That’s a family joke,” Thorin managed grit out between sips of water. “There aren’t any actual mountain lions in Erebor Park.”

“Of course not,” Bungo replied. “So how’d you get into this park ranger business? Bella and I were all in a titter when we heard.”

“We were in a titter about lots of things,” Belladonna added. “You’re just so handsome. Bilbo, you hold onto him this time, you hear?”

“Aule save me,” Bilbo muttered, ignoring the pleased smile on Thorin’s face.

Thorin scratched at his beard. “I don’t really know,” Thorin answered. “I guess I just really enjoy being outdoors, and I used to spend most of my time at Erebor Park as a teen, that the old ranger there used to let me tag along with him.”

“I bet you were a skinny, gangly thing,” Belladonna smiled.

Thorin’s blush told her all. He had to remember to not let Freya anywhere near here. Out would come the photo albums, and he did not need to relive his awkward teenage years. Bad enough he had braces for four years. The last thing anyone needs to see was his spot covered face, giant hooter of a nose, and his unfortunate punk phase.

“Mother,” Bilbo interrupted, a fake smile plastered on his face. “I do love you, but what are you doing here? I was gonna visit for the holidays, remember?”

“Your mama got all restless,” Bungo answered instead. “Said it was such a shame you were going to spend only a few days with us and that you ought to have a real Christmas, and well, I couldn’t argue with that.”

“You should join us!” Belladonna told Thorin, reaching across the table and patting his hand. “It’d be heaps of fun. I make a killer turkey, and Bungo’s mash is to die for. And we watch Grinch and Charlie Brown, and open presents and sing carols.”

Bilbo shook his head, the growing look of disapproval barely fazing his mother at all. “Thorin already has plans,” Bilbo remarked, “with his family.”

“We tend to celebrate on Christmas Eve,” Thorin admitted. “But I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“Nonsense,” Belladonna chided him. “This is just perfect. You should bring your family as well. I haven’t seen Freya in ages.”

Thorin and Bilbo exchanged glances. That – was not happening. Ever. Nope. Not in a million years.

* * *

Thorin zipped up his coat, Bilbo wrapping his scarf around his neck. “That was the most horrible dinner of my entire life.”

“Your parents are cute,” Thorin replied.

“Don’t encourage them,” Bilbo hissed, looking over his shoulder, afraid that he’d find his parents spying on them. “My father’s supposed to be the sensible one, but I think he’s gone weak in his old age.”

“I’m going to tell them you called them old,” Thorin sang, whining as Bilbo pinched his hand.

Bilbo sighed, resting his head against Thorin’s chest, Thorin’s arms wrapping around him. “You don’t have to come over for Christmas,” Bilbo mumbled.

“But carols,” Thorin argued. He chuckled quietly, placing a soft kiss on Bilbo’s temple. “I’ll think about it. I still need to figure out why Kili hates me.”

Bilbo had completely forgotten about that! “He doesn’t hate you,” Bilbo replied, rolling his eyes.

“He hates me,” Thorin repeated forlornly. “I think I saw him making a voodoo doll of me.”

“He did not!” Bilbo laughed. “But I’ll talk to him.”

* * *

“Take them,” Bilbo nearly begged Thranduil as he handed over his pack of rambunctious kindergartners, hoping to get at least an hour to himself.

It was dress rehearsals from here on out and Bilbo had too much to deal with. An hour, maybe half, to himself? That was too good to pass up. Maybe he could steal Thorin away for five minutes and snog the life out of him.

Yeah, that was a great plan.

“Let’s not look too desperate,” was Thranduil’s dry reply, but herding his students away towards the other parent volunteers (and where were they a week ago when Bilbo was having a heart attack), getting the kids in their costumes.

Bilbo ignored the jab, handing his bag of finished costumes – he might have been able to convince his mother to take over, and Yavanna bless her soul – to his teacher’s assistant. He was going to get a coffee and try to remember what sleep was like.

“What time you go to sleep?” Thorin asked, popping up beside Bilbo, a steaming mug of tea in hand. No doubt made in the teacher’s lounge, and though he kept telling him he couldn’t actually use that space, Bilbo couldn’t bring himself to care. Not when steaming hot happiness was in hand.

Bilbo took a sip, trying to remember. “Midnight?” he said, not so sure. He had dozed off as Belladonna took over his sewing machine, shoving him into bed like a troublesome child.

“I woke up at 5,” Bilbo groaned. “I forgot what an early riser my dad was. Puttering around the living room, fixing my Christmas decorations, making breakfast, doing laundry.”

Thorin wrapped an arm around Bilbo’s shoulders, gently rubbing his arm. “Just a few more days and you’ll have your house to yourself,” Thorin reminded him.

“I can’t wait that long,” Bilbo mumbled. “I love them, of course, they’re my parents, but just this morning Momma was dropping hints about when you were going to drop by again, _and wonder what shirt size he wears, he’s very fit, isn’t he?_ ”

“She might have mentioned that,” Thorin mused, checking out his arms. He supposed he was fit. It sort of came with his line of work though. It’s not like we went out to the gym. Much.

Bilbo lightly punched him in the arm, frowning. “You’re taking her side again.”

“I’m not!” Thorin said. “But you can tell her I’m a large, if that’ll stop that line of questioning.”

A tug on Bilbo’s trousers ripped Bilbo’s reply from his mouth, grubby hands digging into his thigh.

“Get off Mr. Boggins!” Kili shouted, kicking at his uncle with his bootied feet. “He’s mine.”

Thorin gently stepped backwards, arms raised in the air, trying to smother down the laugh that the sight of an angry candy cane brought forth.

“Kili, stop this instant,” Bilbo ordered, pulling Kili off, his face set in a petulant pout. He was glaring daggers at Thorin who was quickly subdued by the genuine hostility thrown in his direction.

_Hates me_ , Thorin mouthed, pointing at Kili as if it weren’t completely obvious, and now that Bilbo was witnessing it, it truly was. He had ignored Thorin’s complaints and whines, expecting him to be exaggerating as he was wont to do.

But Kili had a serious bone to pick with Thorin. And Bilbo had an inkling as to what it might be.

“Thorin?” Bilbo asked sweetly. “Did you ever tell Kili about… you know… us?”

His dumbfounded expression said it all. Bilbo looked to the heavens, his only thoughts, _why me?_ He cleared his throat nervously and knelt down beside Kili, placing his hand on his candy striped shirt. “Kili,” Bilbo began.

“Tell him you don’t like him,” Kili demanded, stomping his foot. “Tell him you’re mine.”

“Now hold on just a sec,” Thorin started, but quickly bit his tongue at the glare Bilbo sent him.

Bilbo was going to take care of this issue because _someone_ couldn’t be arsed to let his nephew know that he was dating his teacher. He was so lucky he was cute. Only reason Bilbo wasn’t cutting Thorin to ribbons. That and there were children around.

“Kili,” Bilbo tried once more, making sure that the boy’s attention was on him. “I can’t say that. I like your Uncle Thorin very much.”

Oh no! The hurt puppy eyes. Kili’s face drooped, eyes big and watery, bottom lip trembling. “But you’re my husband,” Kili sniffed. “We’re gonna get married and live in a tree house and have a bunny named Herbert.”

“That sounds very… nice,” Bilbo told him, pulling out a handkerchief from his pocket, ignoring the amused snort from Thorin, and dabbing at Kili’s wet eyes. “But you’re much too young for me, Kili. Compared to you, I’m an old man.”

“Like Uncle?” Kili asked.

“I’m not old,” Thorin grumbled.

Bilbo nodded. “He’s not that old, but he’s much closer to me in age than you. You don’t want your husband to be an old man who can’t actually climb into the house you built, do you?”

Kili shook his head. “No.”

“You’re a very sweet boy, and you have a big heart, and I’m very honored that you like me enough to want to marry me,” Bilbo said. “But your Uncle and I are dating. You know what that means, right?”

“You’re gonna get married,” Kili replied glumly.

Bilbo nearly choked on his own spit. Married! They were hardly dating that long.

“That’s exactly what it means,” Thorin piped up, nodding his head sagely. “And that means you get a new uncle.”

Kili’s eyes lit up, clinging to that last sentence like a life line. “Uncle Boggins!”

“No,” Bilbo said, shaking his head, but Thorin was already snorting with laughter and Kili was bouncing on his feet, tears forgotten. “It’d be Uncle Bilbo, and we’re not getting married.”

“Uncle Bilbo!” Kili parroted, hugging Bilbo’s legs before hugging Thorin’s and running off to his friends, no doubt to tell the good news.

Bilbo could only look on in distress. That… wasn’t how that conversation was supposed to go. “Uncle Bilbo,” Thorin said under his breath. “It rather suits you.”

“Oh, shut up,” Bilbo snapped, storming off to the snack table, easily snatching up a muffin and biting into it with as much force as he could. He was getting real tired of the Durin boys, real quick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you ever just lay on the ground and cry because life sucks? It's fluffy things like this gem that honestly makes me feel so much better about the universe and existence and what not.   
> Also I think I'm losing my mind?


	19. Winter Wizard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A play happens, and mothers meet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, okay so sorry for the late chapter. I'm never going to get through this christmas arc. it's never going to end. fifty years will pass and i will still be trying.   
> like shot me in the foot (or rather, i kicked a wall and fractured my toe), so i've had some time to write! Also, I have a new fic for the Hobbit Big Bang (i still need to post the last chapter i'm bad with deadlines) if you want to read it! It's called Golden and it's about baby dwarves.   
> I'm done talking about my problems, and hope you enjoy :D

Bilbo plopped into a chair, exhausted. Around him parents, teachers, and students ran about, trying to get everything ready for the winter play.

Next year, Bilbo decided, he was going to put the other kindergarten teacher in charge. He just wasn’t cut out for this kind of stress. As much fun as he had watching his students enjoy themselves, it left little time for Bilbo to just breathe.

The past week had been hectic, and his parents hadn’t helped, nor Thranduil, who seemed content to let the students run wild while his “actors” were on stage.

Bilbo wanted nothing more than to give him a good firm tongue lashing, but he didn’t have the energy. He spent it all trying to keep sane.

“Mr. Baggins,” someone called out and Bilbo sat up, startled. He hadn’t quite realized he had been drifting off. He stood, brushing back his errant curls, to face the man who had called him.

He smiled up at Bard, one of his PTA volunteers. His eldest daughter attended the Erebor Academy’s sister school, while his son was in Pre-K, and Bilbo had grown accustomed to see the lad running in the halls.

“Greenleaf’s looking for you,” Bard stated as he neared the teacher.

“For Eru’s sake,” Bilbo muttered, much to Bard’s delight, chuckling under his breath at Bilbo’s clear annoyance with the blonde parent. “What?”

Bard just shrugged, attempting to ease his smile. “He just likes riling you up, you know,” Bard told him, as he followed Bilbo backstage. “You should see him at PTA meetings.”

“Well this is _my_ class,” Bilbo huffed, pulling on his shirt, carefully stepping over props and costumes left on the floor by over eager children. “And I refuse to be treated as anything less than that.”

Bard placed a comforting hand on the teacher’s shoulder. “I’ll talk to him,” Bard offered. “And if he requires anything substantial from you, I’ll be at your side, quick as a whip. You look like you need a break.”

Oh how he did. Bilbo needed a three year holiday on a tropical island where pool boys served him margaritas in tiny swimming trunks. Or maybe just Thorin in tiny swimming trunks. Yes, that worked perfectly.

“Are you sure?” Bilbo asked. It wasn’t Bard’s responsibility after all.

Bard nodded, grabbing Bilbo by the shoulders and shoving him into an old armchair backstage. “Stay,” Bard told him.

Bilbo sighed, but allowed the manhandling. Eru, he was tired. He felt like his limbs were going to fall off and his eyelids were too heavy to leave open any longer.

“Uncle Bilbo,” Kili called, interrupting Bilbo’s quick snatch at a nap.

“I’m not your uncle, Kili,” Bilbo told him, wiping sleep from his eyes. “And at school I’m Mr. Baggins.”

Kili pouted, his candy striped face endearing him all the more. “But you’re Uncle’s boyfriend,” he said, stretching out the last word. “And that means you’re gonna get married.”

Bilbo was going to kill Thorin, he really was. They’d hardly been dating long enough to even consider marriage. They weren’t even comfortable sharing the holidays together, and here was his nephew telling the entire world that he and Thorin were engaged. It was ludicrious!

“Just because you’re someone’s boyfriend, doesn’t mean you’ll get married,” Bilbo told Kili as gently as he could.

The hurt look in Kili’s eyes was heartbreaking. Perhaps Bilbo shouldn’t have said that.

“Nu uh,” Kili stated. “Uncle Thorin said you’re going to get married and Uncle never lies so there!”

It was difficult to argue with that reasoning, but just the same, Bilbo was going to kill Thorin. “Alright,” Bilbo relented. “But at school you have to call me Mr. Baggins, do you understand?”

Kili nodded enthusiastically. “Yessir Mr. Baggins, sir!”

* * *

The auditorium was packed, and Thorin fidgeted anxiously, Freya pulling him through the throng. The rest of their family had arrived when Dis dropped off Kili for the class play, but Thorin had been assigned flower duty, and Freya insisted she go with him.

She could hardly trust him to buy appropriate flowers for her darling grandson, or her future son-in-law; which led to her asking awkward questions about his relationship with Bilbo.

Extremely awkward questions.

“We don’t want to be late,” she scolded, stopping to pull the bright daisies out of Thorin’s hands, using them to wave down Dis and the rest of the family.

Thorin could only politely follow, still trying to forget the salacious look in his mother’s eye as she asked whether Bilbo was a screamer, because if you asked her, he was a screamer.

“Thorin, sit down,” Dis ordered, pulling on his arm until he sat into a too small seat. “What took you so long?”

“I think I’m going to throw up,” Thorin admitted, ignoring the way Freya laughed and slapped his arm.

This is why he didn’t want his mother to meet Bilbo. She always got inappropriately curious about every person Thorin was ever interested in, asking strange questions and bothering them to no end. If Thorin’s emotional constipation didn’t scare off potential partners, his mother’s excessive meddling did.

It was honestly a toss up.

“Look, Bungo, it’s Thorin!”

Oh no!

Thorin sat up, completely horrified as Mrs. Baggins waved at him. He waved meekly back, praying to the gods that his family didn’t notice the plump woman and her husband hurrying towards him.

He could try to play it off maybe. Pretend like they’re a different Baggins family. There had to be at least a dozen different Baggins’ in Erebor.

That was good. Just play it off.

Thorin rushed towards the couple, ignoring the strange looks Frerin and Dis gave him. If he acted like it was nothing strange, they had nothing to be suspicious about.

“Mrs. Baggins, Mr. Baggins,” Thorin greeted with a smile, only for Belladonna to embrace him, copping a quick feel of his bum.

“Belladonna,” she said with a wink, “I told you to call me Belladonna.”

“Bella,” Bungo scolded, patting Thorin on the back. He knew all too well about his wife’s wandering hands. She liked to think she got away with it in her old age, and she would be right - but Bungo had to keep up propriety. He didn’t want Thorin running for the hills because his boyfriend’s mother couldn’t keep her hands to herself. “It’s lovely seeing you again, Thorin.”

“Likewise, sir,” Thorin coughed.

He felt a small hand tug on his jeans, and looked down, only to find Fili looking up at him. “Uncle, Mama wants to know who you’re hiding from us,” Fili said, gazing curiously up at Bilbo’s parents.

“Who’s this?” Belladonna asked, crouching down to be eye level with the blond boy.

Thorin groaned. He knew that his sister was going to notice, and if she noticed, then his mother noticed, which was the exact opposite of what he wanted. Any second now one of those ladies was going to pop up, and then they were going to gossip, and talk about how great it was that Thorin and Bilbo found each other again, and weren’t they just the cutest, and oh, you should join us for Christmas!

That was not going to happen.

“I’m Fili,” Fili bragged. “I’m seven.”

“You’re practically a grownup,” Belladonna claimed as Fili beamed under her attention.

Fili was of the same mind as Mrs. Baggins. He was quite old now, and not at all a baby like his little brother. He could read and write and count to 200 and he was quite good at basketball. He was by all means grownup.

“Mum says when I’m eight I can have my own puppy,” Fili boasted. “I’m gonna be eight real soon.”

Thorin put a hand on Fili’s shoulder, shuffling him off to the side. “I don’t know if you’re actually going to get a puppy, Fee,” Thorin told him.

“I will too,” Fili argued, crossing his arms in a challenge. “Da even said so.”

“I’m sure you will,” Belladonna agreed.

“Thorin,” Dis said, picking up Fili and setting him on her hip, much to his delight. She smiled at Bella and Bungo, elbowing Thorin in the gut. “Aren’t you going to introduce us?”

* * *

Kili peaked out through the curtain, careful to keep his painted face away. He didn’t want to have it repainted again. It was torture having to sit still the first time, let alone the second.

“Where are they?” Gimli asked, sticking his antlered head just under Kili, his plush antlers ticking Kili’s chin. “I can’t see them.”

Kili tried shoving Gimli away to no avail. He was a husky lad and Kili’s scrawny arms were no match for his brawn. He searched for his father’s bright blonde hair, hoping that they were seated close, so as not to miss any of the subtle nuances of his performance.

He finally spotted them in the fifth row, the entire line of seats taken by Kili and Gimli’s family. “Right there,” Kili shouted, waving happily at Fili who was making faces at him.

“Who’s that?” Gimli asked, pointing at the two older folks sitting beside his Great Aunt Freya, laughing and holding her arm like old friends.

“Boys,” Bilbo chastised, “It’s almost showtime.”

“Uncle Bilbo?” Kili asked, joining in with Gimli with the pointing. “Who are they?”

For the love of – Bilbo was going to murder Thorin. He was _not_ Kili’s uncle, as sweet as the boy was. “I don’t know,” Bilbo said, not looking in the direction of Kili’s pudgy finger. “But the show’s going to start soon and I need you in your spot. The both of you.”

The boys groaned in unison but followed Bilbo away from the curtains and joined the rest of their classmates.

Bilbo breathed a sigh of relief as Thranduil stepped onstage to introduce the Christmas play. Less than an hour until the end of the show, and Bilbo could already feel the stress fall off of him. It was like spending a day at the spa, all of his troubles just melted away and it was glorious.

No more sewing costumes, dealing with the uptight Thranduil, rushing here and there to make sure that all of the students appreciated their roles, reassuring them that no one part was more important than the other.

He had two glorious weeks off of school and he was going to spend them eating Christmas chocolates and wrapping himself in thick quilts. And no one, not even his parents, were going to ruin that.

Bilbo’s phone buzzed in his pocket and he absentmindedly unlocked it. It was a message from Thorin and Bilbo didn’t try to hide his grin. No one was around to see him anyhow.

**Your parents are sitting next to my parents. I couldn’t stop it. Dis trapped me.**

“What?” Bilbo shrieked, slapping his hands over his mouth. Hopefully it wasn’t loud enough to interrupt the play. The last he needed was to accidentally ruin the one thing that couldn’t go wrong.

He rushed towards the side curtains, peeking through, looking for any sign of his parents, or of Thorin. He found them sitting close to the stage, Thorin sinking in his seat, all elbows and knees, a look of pure torture on his face. And right next to him were his mother and Freya, giggling away, taking photos and looking conspiratorial. This was not good.

Bilbo’s phone buzzed again.

**Help! :(**

Crap.


	20. English Vermillion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> cuties being cute

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long time to post. I know. But i've had the worst week of my life and I decided that I was actually going to sit and write this chapter even if it killed me (and it's probably plausible, i wouldn't put it past the universe). So I locked my writer's block into the metaphorical basement and wrote this chapter.  
> i honestly don't know where to go with this fic from here on out, but I know it's not finished yet because i have an ending in mind, so if any of y'all have any ideas, feel free to let me know.

In the end Bilbo did nothing to save Thorin. He had far too much to do, and as much as he wanted to pull Thorin free from nosy mothers, he didn't want to make himself a target.

So Thorin sat there through the entirety of the play, fending off Mrs. Baggins' wandering hands and trying to film Kili while squished into a too small chair. Mahal clearly hated him.

Or just Bilbo. It was probably both. 

Afterwards, they were all led to the cafeteria where tables upon tables were laden with food, the ever popular potluck to celebrate a job well done, the children still in their costumes, running and hollering under poor parental supervision. Thinking that this was his escape, Thorin eagerly went, only to be handed plate after plate of food and sat at a table where no one dared  venture near.

"I'm so pleased you and Bilbo decided to make a go of it," Belladonna repeated for the fifth time that afternoon, patting Thorin's thigh much to his discomfort.

"You know," Freya piped up, placing a large slice of lemon merengue pie in front of her son, " Thorin's  always had a hard time keeping a boyfriend, and I think it's because he set the bar so high as a child."

Mahal have mercy, Thorin thought, sliding the pie away. Whatever crime he had committed that deserved just a horrendous punishment, Thorin was certain that he had paid the price, thrice over.   


"Mum," Bilbo smiled, quietly sliding into the seat across from Thorin, giving Belladonna pleading eyes. "Please leave Thorin alone."

"And here's the man of the hour," Freya squealed, wrapping her arms around Bilbo's shoulders and planting a big wet kiss on his cheek.

Thorin  was highl y  pleased by this. It was only fair that Bilbo got sieged as well, especially considering he had left Thorin to the dogs without so much as a how do you do.   


Belladonna and Freya sighed, looking upon their sons as if they were their greatest treasure, pride etched onto their faces, ignoring Thorin's and Bilbo's shared grimace.   


"Aren't they so precious together?" Belladonna asked.   


Freya nodded and added, "I can't wait for you two to get married."   


"I have to go... wash my hands,"  Thorin  announced, nearly tipping his chair over as he stood, dashing off to the men's room as quick as could be.

He plowed through the cafeteria doors, stopping once he reached the end of the hallway, placing his head against the cool tile of the walls. Yavanna, he couldn't breathe.   


"You alright?" came a familiar voice and Thorin resisted the urge to turn away from Bilbo. This was all his fault.   


"Okay, I get it," Bilbo admitted, "I'm a horrible human being, but I have children to watch, you know."   


"Your mum pinched my bum four times," Thorin told him, as he tried to even out his breaths, focusing on the sound of screaming children some twen ty meters away. "My mother has told every embarrassing story about all of my past relationships. And right now they' re planning our wedding." 

Bilbo didn't know what to say. He knew that his mama was happy for him, and of course she adored Thorin, but he thought Thorin wasn't the type to have a freak out about over bearing mothers in hallways.   


"I -" Bilbo tried before Thorin finally pulled away from the wall , flicking a strand of hair from his face.   


"I'm sorry," Thorin mutter ed, cheeks pink.   


Bilbo took his hands in his own and smiled up at Thorin. "I understand," Bilbo told him. "It's stressful. And I shouldn't have left you alone with them."   


"No," Thorin replied. "I didn't mind it so much, though you owe me at least a dozen breath stealing kisses for that."   


He sighed as he rested his forehead on Bilbo's, the smaller man's eyes crossing as he tried to get a good read on Thorin's face. "I just don't want to mess this up," Thorin admitted. "I like you a lot."   


Bilbo could feel his entire body warming, a happy flutter in his chest coming to life at Thorin's confession. It wasn't just a one sided flirtation, or some cheap attempt to rekindle puppy love. This was real. This was something that could withstand nosy mothers and sticky faced kindergartners.

"You wanna know a secret?" Bilbo sai d. "I like you a lot, too."   


* * *

"Where's Uncle Thorin?" Kili asked Fili as he sat down beside his brother, tuckered out from running around the cafeteria, his candy high starting to wear off.   


"I think he's kissing Mr. Baggins,"  Fili  told him with a grimace. Grownups were always kissing and hugging. His parents did it all the time, and never took his feelings into consideration.   


Kili scrunched up his nose, blanching, "Gross."   


Fili nodded. He had seen Uncle Thorin race out of the cafeteria and Mr. Baggins following soon after. Then his grandmum cooed and said something about young lovers, and Fili  may be seven but he knew what love meant.

It usually meant gross kissing.   


"We can find them if you want," Fili suggested, "And make them stop."   


Kili thought about it for a second before shaking his head. "Nah," Kili said. "Uncle Thorin needs to be kissed."

"Why?"   


"I don't know," Kili replied. "But I heard Mama say it, so it's  gotta  be true."


	21. Carmine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New Year's Eve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M NOT DEAD!  
> Sorry for the super super late update, but hey! I updated! I meant to have this up on NYE but I had work that day and on actual new years. so here i am a few days late. i hope you like it  
> updating might be sporadic for a while, but at least by March, I should have a set update schedule (life will hopefully be less stressful by then. i'll keep y'all updated).  
> also, apologies for not responding to any of your comments. but i do read them and appreciate them a whole bunch!! and thanks for your suggestions for possible future ch ideas. (if you've got more, let me know) also i was thinking of maybe doing an au (of my au, HAHA) where thorin and bilbo don't lose touch? idk. i've been thinking about it.

Somehow, through their conjoined efforts, Bilbo and Thorin convinced their families to keep Christmas solely a family affair.

New Year’s Eve, however, was a completely different story.

“Is it strange to have a sit down dinner for New Years?” Freya asked while staring down the turkeys in the frozen foods section. “Is that too formal?”

Thorin tried his best to contain his eye roll. Ever since Belladonna accepted his mother’s invitation to celebrate the new year together, Freya had been fretting non-stop, calling Thorin at all hours of the day asking his advice.

How was he supposed to know if anyone in the Baggins’ family had any allergies? The only person he actually knew was Bilbo, and even then Thorin wasn’t too sure. They hadn’t gone around discussing boring things like allergies, but then, Bilbo did like to talk about food, and he never casually mentioned a deathly allergy to shellfish or the like.

It was safe to assume they didn’t. And if Thorin had to drive Mr. Baggins to the hospital, well then, so be it.

“I thought you were just going to make finger foods,” Thorin reminded his mother, pointedly not mentioning all the other things she was planning on making. “You’re already making pumpkin cheesecake.”

“But that’s not food,” Freya insisted, turning away from the turkeys, only to draw her attention to the chickens. “I can roast a chicken!”

“No,” Thorin said, putting his hand on her shoulder and leading her towards the cashiers. Between his mother and Belladonna, they’d have enough food to feed an entire orphanage, if what Bilbo was telling him was true. “If we get hungry we can order a pizza or something.”

“A pizza!” his mother shrieked, hand clutching her chest. Fellow shoppers turned to look at them and Thorin fought his blush, hiding his face into his arms. “Thorin Octavius Durin, I did not raise you to be a… a… brute!”

And there came the sigh. It could no longer be withheld.

* * *

Bilbo was not nervous. In fact, he had no reason to be nervous. After all, he had already met Thorin’s family, and Thorin had met his.

But if he _was_ nervous – which he wasn’t – then he’d probably be pacing his bedroom floor, running his hands through his hair, and checking his clothes every minute or so. Only, he wasn’t nervous, so he was not doing that.

Nope.

It was idiotic to be nervous! Bilbo told himself over and over again.

It was just – Bilbo’s relationships never seemed to work out. Despite what he tried, who he had liked, how much effort he put into the relationship, they somehow always ended tragically. Bilbo had resigned himself to that fate.

And then Thorin had swept his way back into Bilbo’s life, with his shy smile and deep timbre of his voice. Nothing like the young boy he had been infatuated with, but oh so similar that it was insane he hadn’t realized sooner.

Even as a child he knew – Thorin was the one. The one and only. His other half.

Yavanna, it was frightening. To give up and then to suddenly find hope in another being. What if this was just idle wishing, an impossible dream. People were so hard to make out, and to explicitly place his trust in one, to hand over his heart and say, “this is yours, don’t break it,” – it was the most frightening feeling in the world.

“Bilbo,” Belladonna called from the bottom of the stairs, “It’s nearly eight darling, are you ready?”

He looked at himself once more in the mirror before nodding to himself. There was no need to be nervous.

“Coming,” Bilbo hollered back, rushing down the stairs to put all the pastries his mother had made into his father’s old car.

* * *

The loud yelling was putting Thorin’s poor mood into an even poorer one. Cousins and nephews and old friends and parents and boyfriend’s parents and  _everyone he’d ever met_ canoodling and shouting their excitement at the top of their lungs was a recipe for a disaster.

He really wished he could just go home.

He looked at this watch, groaning at the time. There was at least two more hours until midnight and he already wanted to die. Waiting for the new year was not worth this headache.

“There you are,” Bilbo chirped, cheeks flushed with alcohol, his cardigan slightly skewed, his golden curls impossibly framing his face. “We ran out of beer, but Bofur brought out the ale,” he explained his delay, handing over the bottle of ale and plopping down onto the couch beside Thorin.

Thorin grunted his thanks, downing the drink in one swig.

“Grumpy gills,” Bilbo giggled, putting his head on Thorin’s shoulder. Thorin’s frown deepened and Bilbo’s giggles grew louder, his hand grabbing Thorin’s cheeks and pushing out his lips.

“You’re drunk,” Thorin pouted, lightly removing Bilbo’s hand from his face.

Bilbo’s eyes widened, a look of utter betrayal on his face. “I am not drunk,” Bilbo told him, slamming his ale onto his leg, alcohol sloshing onto his trousers. “I am perfectly sober.”

Thorin sighed, removing himself from his comfy spot on the couch to lead Bilbo to the kitchen where Dwalin and Bofur were deep in a drinking competition, Ori draped over Dwalin’s shoulder, cheering on his not so secret boyfriend. “Go Bofur,” Bilbo cheered, much to Ori’s displeasure.

“Don’t listen to him, Dwal,” Ori said, sticking his tongue out at Bilbo. “You can beat that funny looking mechanic.”

“It’s not a lovely face,” Bofur hiccupped, “But me mum loves it just ta same.”

Mahal above, everyone was sloshed out of their minds, Thorin realized, dragging Bilbo away from the competition, lifting him by the waist and setting him on the kitchen counter. “Drink this,” Thorin ordered, shoving a glass of water under Bilbo’s nose.

Bilbo pouted, trying to get his hands on Thorin. Normally, Thorin would happily let himself be Bilbo’s play thing (and the thought did not make Thorin blush like a school boy), but he wasn’t himself and he didn’t want Bilbo to come to him completely embarrassed for losing control of himself when he was drunk.

“Stop it,” Thorin told him, swatting away his pesky, tricky hands.

“Nope,” Bilbo said, popping the ‘p’ with a giggle.

“Bilbo,” Thorin chided.

“Thorin,” Bilbo mimicked him, thumping his head against Thorin’s chest. “Mmm, you’re so warm.”

No. Abort! Abort! Abort! Thorin delicately raised Bilbo’s head. “Come on, Bilbo, drink,” he tried again, gently nudging Bilbo’s lips with the rim of the glass.

Bilbo opened his mouth and Thorin tilted the glass, water spilling down the side of Bilbo’s mouth. Most of it, Thorin noted, actually went into his mouth, much to his pleasure.

“Is it midnight yet?” Bilbo asked, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. “I’m so tired.”

Thorin checked his watch once more. “Not even eleven,” Thorin told him.

“I’m never going to make it,” Bilbo yawned, eyes growing heavy, head lilting forward.

Note to self, Thorin thought, don’t let Bilbo drink. He looked around the kitchen, then snuck a peak into the living room. Everyone was caught up in their own worlds, laughing and drinking – Belladonna and his mother in particular seemed to be caught up in a play by play of the years since they last saw each other – that Thorin was positive they wouldn’t be missed if they snuck off for a bit.

“Alright,” Thorin grunted as he put one arm under Bilbo’s legs, the other around his back, lifting him easily. He navigated around family members towards the stairs leading to the guest rooms on the second floor. He’d let Bilbo nap for a bit and then wake him just in time to join the others downstairs for the new year.

Perfect plan.

Thorin toed open the first guest room, the room he tended to stay in when visiting Dis, laying Bilbo down on the bed.

His eyes were closed, his breaths deep and even. It looked like he had fallen asleep the moment he was bundled up in Thorin’s arms.

“What am I going to do with you,” Thorin muttered, sitting beside Bilbo, petting his hair.

Bilbo stirred, opening one bleary eye, snuggling into his hand. “Sleep,” Bilbo ordered, scooting over and making room for Thorin.

“Can’t,” Thorin said. “We’ve got to be downstairs before midnight.”

“Sleep,” Bilbo insisted and Thorin couldn’t deny him anything, whether they were five years old or thirty-five.

He lay down beside his partner, wrapping his arms around Bilbo’s waist, nuzzling his face into Bilbo’s curls, their bodies perfectly slotted together. “We’ve got to wake up in an hour,” Thorin said, Bilbo nodded sleepily, a mumbled, “of course,” his only reassurance.

A knocking on the door pulled Thorin from his slumber, a sliver of drool matting his face to his pillow. Bilbo snuffled in his sleep, his light snored filling the room, his arms thrown about, legs intertwined with Thorin’s.

Shit. What time was it?

“Wake up, Pigeon,” Freya sang through the door. “And let Bilbo know we’re making waffles.”

Bilbo suddenly sat up, much to Thorin’s surprise, his clothes wrinkled and pillow creases scarring his face. “Waffles?” he asked, stomach growling loudly.

They missed the new year. They had slept through midnight. Thorin groaned, covering his face with his hands. His parents probably thought he and Bilbo came up here to canoodle. Oh Mahal, the embarrassment. Dis was probably going to wink at him and give him those suggestive eyebrow wiggles.

Bilbo blinked at Thorin, a goofy smile on his face. “Good morning,” he said, looking down at the suffering man beside him.

“We slept through midnight,” Thorin panicked, grabbing a pillow and hiding his face. “We slept through midnight and locked ourselves in this room and my family is going to think we were being inappropriate.”

“But we weren’t,” Bilbo reassured him. “We weren’t, were we? I think I’d like to remember that.”

“No, we didn’t,” Thorin hissed, momentarily removing the pillow to get his point across.

Bilbo simply used that opportunity to plant a kiss on his mouth, humming in delight as Thorin wrapped his arms around him. “Happy New Year,” Bilbo smiled.

“Happy New Year,” Thorin replied, going in for another kiss only for the door to burst open and Fili, Kili, and Gimli running into the room and jumping on the bed.

“Waffles!” they shouted, completely immune to the dirty looks Thorin was giving them.

Bilbo chuckled, grabbing onto Gimli and hauling him over his shoulder. “Time for waffles, boys,” he said, the boys cheering and following him out of the room.

Thorin was never going to catch a break.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GOD GET MARRIED ALREADY. THORIN EVERYONE KNOWS YOU'RE CRAZY ABOUT THIS FOOL. AND BILBO, WE ALL KNOW YOU'RE IN LOVE WITH THIS IDIOT. WHY CAN'T I EVER WRITE A STORY WHERE THEY GET TOGETHER LIKE CHAPTER ONE. I JUST WANT THEM TO KISS ALL THE TIME.


	22. Blush: I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo deeply analyzes his relationship and finds it wanting. Bungo wishes he never asked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH MY GOD IT'S BEEN AGES! for those of you that don't know, i moved back w/ my parents (in texas. i hate it. get me out of this horrible state). and i've finally FINALLY gotten over my writer's block, thanks to the lovely badskippy.   
> I'm going to try and update next week (it should be easy, right?), but i've still got Heart Strings going and a new fic, [The Gardener's Son](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6591448/chapters/15079114) (a Sabrina AU), for any interested parties. (also i missed the hobbit big bang :C but i think once i finish my sabrina au, i'm going to start posting my wedding planner!thorin au. so i'm very much active and alive)  
> Just want to thank those of you who have stuck with me through the past couple of months. this fic was not abandoned. so thank you for the comments and support. i may not always respond, but i do read them. you're all the best! :D  
> also, trying out this new thing! if you like the fic, or the chapter or w/e, how about you [Buy Me a Coffee](https://ko-fi.com/A5571CJ)?

“Uncle Bilbo!” Kili called from the back of the classroom, glitter in his hair, hands covered in glue. He was waving his arms wildly, his elbow knocking the top of Gimli’s head every so often, the poor boy too enthralled in his macaroni picture to notice.

Bilbo held back his sigh. He had told Kili at least a hundred times that at school, he was Mr. Baggins, not Uncle Bilbo. It was all Thorin’s fault, convincing the little ones to call him Uncle, as if he were an actual part of the family.

The whole lot of them seemed convinced that he and Thorin were a sure thing, that their whole dating was just some sweet courtship leading towards marriage, when it assuredly was not. And his parents were just as bad, constantly inviting Thorin over for dinner, inviting themselves over to Bilbo’s on date nights, telling the family that he was _engaged_.  

There really wasn’t anything more embarrassing than that.

“Kili,” Bilbo said, shaking his head as he kneeled down by the art table. “You’re making a mess.”

“But Uncle Bilbo, my shark came out real good,” Kili explained, holding up his glittery glob of paper, glue dripping onto his shoes.

“It’s Mr. Baggins while we’re at school, Kili,” Bilbo reminded him, ruffling his hair. “And it’s a very nice shark.”

“I always forget,” Kili pouted. “Fili says that once it’s summer I can call you Uncle Baggins all the time, even when I have a new teacher. Is that true?”

Technically, yes, but what if Thorin came to his senses and decided to drop Bilbo like a hot potato? What if Bilbo lost interest in Thorin (as farfetched a thought that was)? What if a meteor struck and killed them both?

“Yes,” Bilbo said, figuring it was less complicated than voicing Bilbo’s fears. “But until then, it’s Mr. Baggins.”

“Look, Mr. Baggins, I made a horse,” Gimli chirped, holding up his macaroni art, glue and glitter in his red hair, some paste stuck to his cheek. It didn’t really look like a horse to Bilbo, more like a yellow alligator pooping fire, but the originality was astounding.

“It’s very nice,” Bilbo told him. “How about we pin this to the art wall?”

The boys cheered, reminding Bilbo that now wasn’t the time to stress about things that didn’t involve 6 year olds.

* * *

It wasn’t like their relationship was bad.

It was far from bad. He and Thorin got along swimmingly. Sometimes Thorin was a complete jerk, teasing Bilbo mercilessly or brooding in the corner about something, but really they hardly fought and had a scheduled date night.

Everything was going perfectly. Like clockwork.

Bilbo threw away his muffin wrapper and grabbed another one from the tin, at the risk of his mother’s ire. She should know better than to leave muffins in Bilbo’s wake. So really, it’s her own fault if Bilbo ate them all.

Clockwork wasn’t good though, at least not when it came to relationships. That meant it was boring, didn’t it? Bilbo practically stuffed the entire pastry into his mouth. They hadn’t even had sex yet.

Maybe Thorin wasn’t interested in sleeping with Bilbo. Maybe he had some fling on the side who he did all that with, and then when he saw Bilbo it was all, “I don’t want to move too fast.” It was nearly five whole months of dating.

The only time they shared a bed was for actual sleeping. Bilbo was certain Thorin was going to take advantage of the situation Sunday morning. They had such a sweet, sexual tension about them, Bilbo was prepared to throw caution to the wind and forget all about sleeping in for a romp in the sack.

Instead he got maple syrup flavored kisses and snuggling on the couch.

“What’s wrong?” Bungo asked, snatching Bilbo’s third muffin from his hands and handing him a napkin.

Bilbo frowned, wiping the crumbs from his mouth. “Nothing,” Bilbo mumbled.

“I don’t believe you,” Bungo stated, biting into the pilfered muffin.

Of course he didn’t. Yavanna, this was embarrassing. He wasn’t fifteen. He didn’t need to go to his father for advice. He felt like dying of shame. “I can’t – look Dad,” Bilbo tried. “It’s Thorin, alright.”

“Oh,” Bungo nodded, setting down the muffin to cross his arms. His cheeks were pink as he stared down at his shoes.

Please, please, drop it, Bilbo wanted to beg. He didn’t want to talk about it, and it was clear his father didn’t want to talk about it. Best to let it go.

He cleared his throat and Bilbo closed his eyes. Please, don’t, Bilbo was repeating to himself. Leave, leave. “What seems to be the problem?” Bungo asked, fatherly advice mode activated. Now Bilbo wasn’t going to be able to leave with his pride intact.

Bilbo sighed. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he answered. “Can we drop it?”

“He hasn’t… been hitting your or anything,” Bungo asked, much to Bilbo’s shock. Thorin may seem like a ruffian, but that man was basically a giant teddy bear. He didn’t have a cruel bone in his body. The only person Bilbo had ever seen him get rough with was Dwalin, and they had been friends for years.

“I can’t believe – ” Bilbo started, completely indignant. “No, he has not. He wouldn’t hurt a single soul, least of all me.” Honestly, he was just the sweetest man on the planet, and therein lay the problem.

How did Bilbo go about keeping the sweetest man on the planet interested? Bilbo was a grump in the morning, drank too much at parties, ate too much during meals, hating going out, and made it a point to make fun of Thorin as much as possible.

Why would he even _want_ to stay with him? Because they got married when they were 6? It was such a weak excuse.

“Then… what’s the problem?” Bungo asked. “You seemed perfectly alright last week.”

This was going to be like pulling teeth, Bilbo could feel it. Perhaps he should just walk away now. Pretend he never brought up the subject. His father was right, everything was alright. They were happy. They were marvelous.

Bilbo wanted to throw up. “Sometimes I feel like he doesn’t like me all that much,” Bilbo muttered, picking at the edging of the counter.

“Poppycock,” Bungo exclaimed. “I never heard such nonsense in my entire life.” He pointed a chubby finger at Bilbo, having worked himself into a proper strop. “That man is over the moon for you, and if you can’t see that, then well, Bilbo, you may be my son, but you might not be all that deserving of his love. No offense, of course. I’ve seen the way he looks at you, like you hung the stars for him personally.

“You should have seen him on New Year’s, everyone giving him a good ribbing about the both of you disappearing all night,” Bunbo continued. “Gave them all a piece of his mind, he did. Saying he would never do anything so disrespectful, drunk as you were, and the house full of family. He’s a good, proper boy, he is.”

Having said his piece, Bungo bit into his muffin, chewing viciously, his earlier query of Thorin’s character completely forgotten, having remembered what an upright, proper young man he was.

Bilbo supposed he was right. Thorin was quite gone on him, even Bilbo could tell that. “Then why won’t he sleep with me!” Bilbo blurted, his frustration exploding out of him, damn the consequences.

His father choked on a piece of muffin, coughing violently, bits of crumbs flying out of his mouth. That was not where he thought the conversation was going.

“I’ve given him every opportunity to take me to bed,” Bilbo continued, patting Bungo on the back, his face going a dangerous shade of red, the embarrassment of learning about his son’s sex life far too much for him to handle. “But he always dodges out of it. Yesterday, I was certain he’d throw all caution to the wind and ravish me. I mean, I was making pancakes in nothing but his t-shirt. How much more obvious could I get?”

Bungo slipped out of Bilbo’s grasp, wiping his face with a handkerchief. “Perhaps talking to him,” Bungo suggested, hoping that soon the whole conversation would end. He didn’t want to think of his son having sex with anyone. His son was as pure as a blooming daisy, and that’s how it was going to stay.

The ringing of the doorbell interrupted their little heart to heart, much to Bungo’s relief, rushing to answer the door. He did not need these horrible thoughts of his son tarting himself up. At least Thorin was the stronger man. He was definitely someone he could trust.

“Sorry I’m late, I lost my way twice,” Thorin said as the Bungo opened the door, a prettily wrapped box in his hands. “Don’t think I’d have found the place if it wasn’t for Bilbo’s car in the drive.”

Bungo cursed his timing. All he could think about was – no, no! It was alright. Thorin wouldn’t dare touch his son in that manner. His self-control was impeccable. “So good to see you, Thorin,” Bungo greeted, shuffling him into the foyer where he stood awkwardly, stooped beneath an impressive chandelier. “Don’t you worry, the missus ain’t exactly done primping, but we’ll be off soon.”

The sound of silent cursing reached their ears, and suddenly Bilbo rushed into the foyer. “What are you doing here?” Bilbo asked breathlessly. “What is he doing here?”

Thorin furrowed his brow, glancing at Bungo for help, only to be given a guilty smile. Bilbo didn’t know he had been invited. Oh. No wonder he said he wouldn’t see him until next week.

“Your parents invited me?” Thorin said, not particularly sure why Bilbo was less than pleased to see him. They had parted on good terms yesterday afternoon. Had Thorin done something to accidentally upset him?

“You what!” Bilbo exclaimed. “Why!”

“Because everyone’s been dying to meet him,” Belladonna answered, joining their little party, dressed in a very flattering wrap dress. “And your grandfather said that if he died before meeting your young man, he was going to haunt us for all eternity.”

That dramatic old geezer, Bilbo fumed. “But – ”

“I can go home,” Thorin offered, scuffing his boots nervously – and he had worn his nice boots, the brown, leather ones – pulling at his grey cardigan. He had even put on a tie.

He was the worst, Bilbo groaned. He was completely nervous, and Bilbo was treating him like a villain. “No,” Bilbo told him, taking the present from his hands and kissing his cheek. “I’m sorry, I was just surprised, that’s all. I’m sure everyone will love you.”

* * *

Grandfather Gerontius and Grandmother Adamanta liked to celebrate every milestone with a party. It was the Took way. Bilbo had been to more Took parties than he could possibly remember, each one louder and more rambunctious than the last.

And his grandparent’s 70th wedding anniversary was no different.

Nieces and nephews ran amok, their shrieks and giggles so loud that Bilbo could hear them before entering the clearing that doubled as _the_ go-to party place in Hobbiton. There were dozens of tables, covered in mismatched tablecloths, and rows upon rows of more tables ladled with food and liquor. Lights were strung up all around, and some were even wrapped around the party tree, lighting it up from within.

“Wow,” Thorin managed, as Bilbo led him through throngs of relatives, all of them looking at him like a spectacle. “And I thought my family was big. No wonder you weren’t fazed by them.”

“We’re more or less related to everyone in town,” Bilbo admitted, glaring at his cousin Aster who looked ready to give Thorin’s bum a good pinching. The only one allowed to do that was Bilbo himself. “Stay close.”

Thorin tried his hardest not to fidget under the stares. Belladonna had warned him when she extended the invitation that he’d most likely cause a stir. A new face, and a handsome one at that, was a rare treat for their family.

He just had to grin and bear it, for Bilbo’s sake.

He gripped Bilbo’s hand tighter, and Bilbo squeezed his hand in return. That’s right, he wasn’t alone here. His heart felt lighter, trepidation flying away as he followed Bilbo, paying no mind to the eyes that watched him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's mention of sex. I highly doubt I'll write any sex. just so you all are aware, thinking that i might write some smuttyness. it's not happening.


	23. Blush: II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo and Thorin at the party. Thorin is a dork. Bilbo is a dork. God they love each other so much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S ALMOST BEEN A YEAR??? AND I APOLOGIZE.   
> i feel like whenever i update a fic i have to give an entire life story so: moved back to chicago (yay!), wrote two fics for two separate big bangs, applied to grad school, got my sewing machine back so i've been sewing like crazy (and gonna sell some cute homemade stuff!), GOT INTO GRAD SCHOOL. it's been a crazy year! now that i'm less stressed i'm hoping i can keep up w/ updating. i'm trying so hard here. i had some bad writer's block. let me tell you, but i've been re-inspired. hoping it sticks.   
> and thanks for sticking with me through all this time. you, my readers, are amazing and i love you all. :D
> 
> also, warning: i mention sex in the last chapter and this chapter. i will not be writing sex. just... fyi.

 “He’s certainly handsome,” Grandma Adamanta commented as Bilbo sat Thorin at an empty table.

Gerontius nodded, looking down at the present Thorin had gifted them both during their introduction. He seemed a good, upright young man, and no doubt he’d treat Bilbo well. He was smitten with his grandson, that much was obvious, and Bungo seemed quite proud to invite him into the family. “Bilbo has quite the eye,” he replied.

“Seems everyone else seems to think so as well,” Adamanta giggled, as her relations watched Thorin with thirsty eyes, several of the younger lasses – and lads – swarming him as Bilbo went to get them some food.

Thorin was easily overwhelmed by them all, head turning from one person to the other as they assaulted him with questions.

“Is it true you saved Uncle Bilbo’s life?”

“Are you two really engaged?”

“How tall are you?”

“What do you do for a living, then?”

“I don’t like you.”

“You’re really fit. Do you work out?”

“When’s the wedding?”

“Uncle Bungo says you’re a right proper gent, but I don’t see it.”

Thorin looked at them all, hands squeezed together between his thighs. Surely, the thought, Bilbo would return shortly to save him. He spotted him at the buffet table, two plates over laden with food, chatting with an older woman. An aunt, most likely. 

Not anytime soon then.

His stomach rumbled and a pink cheeked young woman gasped in delight, a hand to her chest like a bad actor in a play. “Oh no, Mr. Thorin, you’re starving.”

He had hardly begun to protest before the whole lot of them began bickering over his head, deciding en masse to fetch him dinner. They patted his shoulders (and head and arms and one cheeky relative went for a pinch to his bum) and assured him that they’d be right back so he’d better have his answers all prepared.

With the group gone, Thorin sunk forward, head hitting the table. He told himself he could do this, but he couldn’t. He figured he’d draw some attention, no doubt. Bilbo had told him that his family lived in a small village and any new face was worth talking about, but this was too much.

Thorin’s family may be overbearing, but at least they hadn’t swarmed Bilbo during that first meeting, asking for every little personal detail of his life without so much as a “how do you do.”

A plate was placed before him and Thorin jerked his head up. They were back. He had to run. He had to leave. He had to get far, far away and never return.

“Are you alright?” Bilbo asked, sitting on the bench beside him with a plate of his own. He smiled at Thorin, his dimples all the more pronounced under the twinkle lights. He was stunning here beneath the party tree, happier, as if introducing Thorin to his world made him all that much brighter.

He would do this for Bilbo. If, as a boy, he was willing to fight off trolls and dragons for him, then surely he could face his relations with a pride and dignity that would reward him many sweet smiles and one or two even sweeter kisses.

“Perfect,” Thorin managed, digging into his meal like a man starved. He had hardy eaten all day from nerves.

“They’re a bit much, I know,” Bilbo said, placing a napkin on his lap and munching on a bread roll. “If you feel even a bit uncomfortable, you tell me so. I’ll give them a good piece of my mind, just you wait.”

Thorin nodded. Perhaps he should speak up now and nip the whole problem in the bud before it got out of hand. Besides, Bilbo was quite the sight when he was worked up, cheeks pinked and curls flying every which way with every bob of his head, his nose scrunched up in anger. 

“Bilbo, there you are,” one of Thorin’s cousins said, putting another plate in front of Thorin. Behind her were his other accosters, a plate in each hand. Did they really expect him to eat that much? “Felt guilty about leaving your beau here to starve all by himself?”

“He’s hardly starving, Dora,” Bilbo replied, looking pointedly at Thorin who stabbed a potato with his fork and stuffed it into his mouth, humming in exaggeration at how delicious it was. He was not to get involved. 

Dora glared at Bilbo, the rest of his relatives claiming the plates as their own and scattering. No one wanted to be around once Dora and Bilbo finally got going.

“He’s so thin,” Dora said, sitting on the other side of Thorin, poking him hard in the side. Thorin jumped, nearly choking on his potato. She was happily unaware, grabbing his arms and squeezing. “Practically skin and bones,” she went on, practically salivating over Thorin.

Too thin indeed!

“Don’t touch him,” Bilbo grit out. “He doesn’t enjoy being felt up like a slab of beef.”

“I bet he doesn’t feed you at all,” Dora cooed at Thorin, ignoring her cousin. She grabbed a napkin and wiped his mouth, much to everyone’s surprise. Thorin looked to Bilbo, eyes pleading for help.

Bilbo stood up, slamming his hands on the table. A great hush fell upon the party, even the band stopped playing, eager to witness Dora’s dressing down. “Get your hands off of him this instant, or I’ll tell the whole family all your dirty little secrets, Dora Baggins,” Bilbo hissed, Dora paling in fright. “Don’t think I won’t.”

She stood, then, nose high in the air as she flounced away. The conversations resumed, the music once more began to play, and Thorin cleared his throat, hands bunching his trousers and creasing them most horribly. Bilbo sat, patting his hand roughly. “If she wasn’t family, I’d give her a great big wallop,” Bilbo muttered.

Thorin turned his hand so he was holding Bilbo’s. He was muttering into his meal, his face flushed and his nose twitching in annoyance. He was positively radiant, and Thorin felt that at any moment he’d forget how to breathe with how happy he was.  

“Thank you,” Thorin said, pressing a soft kiss to Bilbo’s temple. Bilbo blushed, shoving Thorin away from him, aware that though his family may be pretending to be invested in their conversations, were keenly attuned to their every move.

Thorin chuckled, soft and deep, and suddenly Bilbo didn’t care what his family thought. Thorin was here for him, and darn it all, Bilbo was going to enjoy every moment.

* * *

“Why can’t you be like that?” Esmeralda Took asked Saradoc Brandybuck, elbowing him in the stomach just as he took a draught of his lager.

He coughed, wiping his face with his sleeve. “Like who,” he sputtered. He loved Esmeralda, honest he did, but one day she’d kill him and it would not come as a surprise to him in the least.

She motioned her head towards Bilbo and his new beau who were cuddling in their seats – Bilbo was practically in his lap! Every few minutes or so they’d say something to the other and exchange sweet, fleeting kisses. It was absolutely tooth rotting. Esmeralda had never been more jealous in her life.

She was lucky if Saradoc remembered her birthday, or that she was his girlfriend. Not to mention that if the rumour mill was right, Bilbo was already engaged to that tall hunk of man meat. She’d been dating Saradoc for nearly 5 years and he still hadn’t proposed to her. The big idiot.

He was lucky she loved him, Yavanna knew why.

“It’s a bit unrealistic, don’t you think?” Saradoc replied, earning himself another elbow to the stomach.

“It’s romantic, is what it is,” Esmeralda told him. “You don’t have a romantic bone in your body.” Once, she thought that he had remembered their anniversary when he had come over to her house with a beautiful bouquet of daisies; apparently, they had been for his mother who was suffering from a cold. When _she_ had a cold, Saradoc refused to get near her, not willing to risk getting sick.

“I try,” Saradoc muttered, clutching his stomach in fear.

Esmeralda sighed, kissing him on the cheek. Perhaps she was being just a little mean to him. “I’m going to say hi,” she decided.

She approached them cautiously, as one does a bear in the woods. And well – if there was a word to describe Bilbo’s beau, bear would be a good one. He was a grizzly looking man, tall and well built, and so dreadfully handsome Esmeralda couldn’t help but let out a tiny sigh of admiration. She supposed it really was true: the good ones really were gay.

Bilbo stood then, swatting his beau’s hands off him, a blush on his face as he wrapped Esmeralda in a hug. She had always looked up to Bilbo, with his sweet disposition and sweeter smiles, he was practically the most sought after inhabitant of Hobbiton, and now here he was with a ruggedly handsome man. It was no wonder Dora got burned for touching what wasn’t hers.

“Esmeralda, it’s been too long,” he smiled. “I see you and Saradoc are the same as ever.” He winked, giving her hardly any time to respond as he motioned his beau to his feet to introduce him properly. “This is Thorin. My… mmm… very good friend.”

Or not so properly. Honestly, men!

“Boyfriend,” Thorin smirked.

“Yes,” Bilbo blushed, swatting Thorin on the arm. “Boyfriend. Partner. Significant other. And this is my cousin – don’t give me that look, nearly everyone here I’m related to, it’s easier to call them all cousins – Esmeralda Took.”

“Thorin Durin. Pleasure to meet you.”

“Pleasure is all mine,” Esmeralda grinned as they shook hands, taking immense joy in the feeling of his large, rough hand in hers. Bilbo was such a lucky man. He was absolutely delicious. Where was Prim when she needed her?

Oh yes, on her honeymoon. That horrible friend, getting married before her. At this rate, everyone was going to get married before her. She should just ask Saradoc herself.

And speaking of Saradoc, he had decided to join their little group, happily shaking hands with Thorin and leading him off towards the drinks as if they were the best of friends, Thorin giving Bilbo a look of utter devotion, as if a minute apart would break his heart.

It was disgusting and heartwarming all at once.  

“Can he hold his drink?” Esmeralda asked, watching them go off.

Bilbo shrugged, sitting back down, patting Thorin’s open seat for her. “For the sake of his pride, I’d like to say yes, but I haven’t the faintest idea.”

She felt she might warn Bilbo that Saradoc was known to start more than his fair share of drinking contests, but then again, Bilbo had known him just as long as she. If he felt that he wasn’t a threat, then who was she to spoil their fun?

“When’s the wedding then?” Esmeralda asked, giggling as Bilbo choked on air.

She gave him three hard thumps across the back before he managed to say, “What are you talking about?”

“Uncle Bungo’s told nearly everyone about your engagement,” Esmeralda told him. He had practically shouted it from the village square. Everyone knew all about Bilbo and his fiancé.

“Engagement!” Bilbo squeaked, running a hand through his curls. “We’re not – we haven’t even – Esmeralda you better not be teasing me.”

“I’m not,” she said. “What haven’t you even?”

Bilbo turned a deep red, hiding his face behind his hands. “It doesn’t matter. And we’re not engaged,” he said.

She looked at Bilbo, and then at Thorin who was downing a pint of beer with Saradoc.

“You’re joking!” she exclaimed, ignoring the glare sent her way. She grabbed Bilbo’s arm and led him far away from their other family members. This was not polite conversation, and the last thing they wanted was for the whole family to know about Bilbo’s sex life – or lack thereof.

“You haven’t had sex,” Esmeralda demanded to know, looking at Bilbo with such sad eyes. The poor man was completely frustrated, she could see it in his eyes. It was the same look that she saw in the mirror every day.

Only hers was because some idiot wouldn’t marry her.

“This is so embarrassing,” Bilbo groaned. “First my father, now you. Look it doesn’t matter, all right? We’re perfectly happy.”

They were not perfectly happy. Bilbo was probably going to burst any minute.

“Have you brought it up at all?” Esmeralda asked.

“I practically throw myself at him,” Bilbo hissed. “How many times can a man sleep over without so much as a grope? I wear his shirts with no pants on! I make terrible sex analogies on every date. I’ve started eaten bananas in erotic ways just so he’d get the hint!”

Poor Bilbo. This was a crime. A true crime. But Thorin was a man, and men – though beautiful – were complete and utter idiots. “But have you actually said the words to him? ‘I want to have sex with you’?” she asked.

Bilbo grew quiet. No, of course not. Men! How did they manage to get anything done without her? “You have to have a conversation with him,” Esmeralda lectured. “Maybe he doesn’t like sex. Maybe he doesn’t realize that you’re coming on to him. You’re both grown men. The least you could do is talk to each other.”

“He probably finds me unattractive,” Bilbo said in a small voice.

Unattractive? “Unattractive!” Esmeralda exclaimed. “Gods, Bilbo! I’m positive that he finds you to be the most attractive person on the planet. I’m sure he’s waiting for you tell him to ravish you.”

* * *

Thorin was on his fifth pint of ale when Bilbo, in all his beauty, interrupted their drinking contest.

Saradoc, it turned out, was the Hobbiton drinking champion for 5 years running. He could down more drinks than anyone else in town, and wake up the next day as carefree as a priest on Sunday.

He did not learn this until his third pint, and by then he was feeling just a tad bit tipsy. Or very tipsy. Now he was feeling very inebriated, but also very good. He felt just fine.

He didn’t know why he was nervous to meet Bilbo’s family in the first place. They were absolutely wonderful. He loved them.

“I’m glad,” Bilbo frowned, grabbing Thorin’s arm and unsuccessfully attempting to get Thorin on his feet.

Thorin wasn’t sure why his legs weren’t working. They usually worked. Mahal above, the whole world was spinning. Except Bilbo. Bilbo was like the North Star, shining down on him, guiding him home.

“He’s a bit of a poet, init he?” Saradoc hiccupped, finishing another ale.

“A regular Keats,” Bilbo grumbled, swatting Thorin’s wandering hands away.

But Thorin wanted to cuddle him. He wanted to wrap himself around Bilbo and never let him go. He was soft and he always smelled like apples, and Thorin wanted nothing more than to lie upon his bosom and listen to his heart beat.

“I do not have a bosom!” Bilbo squawked, letting Thorin go.

And down Thorin fell to the ground with a loud, _Thunk!_ his grey sweater gaining one or two grass stains. He looked up at Bilbo with a big smile.  He was the luckiest man in the whole wide world. Mahal, he loved Bilbo so much, sometimes it felt like his heart was going to burst right out of his chest.

Bilbo blushed, sputtering and shoving his overzealous relatives away.

Thorin closed his eyes, finding the ground to be a very comfortable bed. Yes, he was very lucky indeed, he thought,  and when he woke up, he was going to tell Bilbo just that.


	24. Fuzzy Wuzzy Brown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's talk about sex baby let's talk about you and me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is bilbo and thorin discussing their sex life. there's no sexual acts or anything, just them talking because talking is sexy. yes.

Bilbo took a deep breath.

He could do this. He could talk to him. He could – and he would! – because he was an adult and adults had mature conversations with their partners to discuss the possibility of entering a more intimate relationship with said partner.

No biggie.

Bilbo knocked on Thorin’s door, hoping one of his neighbors didn’t pop their heads out to see what the fuss was about. Not that they ever did that. Well, they had one neighbor that always gave them dirty looks whenever they were caught snogging in the hallway, but then again, they had been pressed against their door and not Thorin’s that one time. It would have been worth it if Thorin had ravished him, but that’s what the whole fuss was about, now wasn’t it.

There was no ravishing. No wandering hands. No – no – no seducing or undressing or anything that would end his misery.

He knocked again, stealing himself. He was going to talk with Thorin, and they were going to have sex, dammit.

“Hey,” Thorin said as the door swung open. He was wearing a paint stained apron, and he was distractedly looking behind him. There was a loud ruckus of childish squeals from within the apartment. “Come in, come in. You boys better not be making a mess.”

“We’re not!” came their reply.

Thorin ran to the kitchen, leaving Bilbo to close the door, trying to swallow down his embarrassment. He couldn’t have this conversation now! Dear Mahal, there were children present. He knew he should have called first, but it was a Friday night. They usually had a date on Friday.

Not that he was expecting a date, but when Thorin invited him over he assumed it was for private alone time. Not to help him babysit.

Well there was nothing for it now. Bilbo just had to suck it up and wait until later. Like tomorrow. Tomorrow sounded wonderful.

“Uncle Bilbo!” Fili and Kili chirped as Bilbo walked into their view. They sat at newspaper covered kitchen counter, bright blue mocks tied around their necks and paintbrushes in hand. They smiled at him, each rushing to hold up their art work to him.

Thorin stood proudly behind them, yellow paint on his cheek and purple paint in his hair. “I think they’re going to be next Picasso.”

Well… their art was definitely… surreal. Bilbo supposed Fili’s painting could be considered cubism. And Kili… well there was a lot of color and he could tell the boy tried his hardest. “They’re wonderful,” Bilbo told them, enjoying the way they wiggled in their seats from happiness.

“Alright, wash up,” Thorin instructed, patting them on their behinds as they scurried away. Once out of sight, he grabbed Bilbo by the waist, nuzzling into his neck and planting whiskery kisses on his neck. “Mmm, hello.”

This is what Bilbo wanted. More of this. More of this holding and kissing and unrelenting desire. He just had to ask for it. He could do this. He could. “Thorin – ”

“Ew!” Kili exclaimed, covering his eyes, his hands still wet. Fili was right behind him, sticking his tongue out and scrunching up his face. Grownups were gross.

Thorin pulled away and grabbed his nephews, planting raspberry kisses on their cheeks. Fili and Kili shrieked, trying to get away, but Thorin’s held onto them tightly.

There was a knock at the door and Bilbo left them to their tomfoolery to answer it.

Dis waved as she stepped into the flat, following the sound of her children. “We’ll be out of your hair, Bilbo,” she said. “Promise.”

Twenty minutes later, Fili and Kili were gone, and Thorin and Bilbo sat comfortably on the sofa, only half watching a nature documentary.

Now was the perfect time to bring it up, Bilbo told himself. Just say the words. Just tell him how you feel. Simple.

“You hungry?” Thorin yawned.

“I want to have sex,” Bilbo blurted, much to his embarrassment. That’s not what he was going to say! Eru, strike him down where he sat.

Thorin blinked, staring at Bilbo in shock. “You – now?” he asked.

“No, not now,” Bilbo replied, standing up and sorting through the stack of take out menus Thorin kept on a side table. “Forget it. I’m starved. Chinese?”

“Bilbo,” Thorin started.

“Forget it,” Bilbo interrupted. “Forget I said anything alright. I’m tired and hungry and just forget it, Thorin, please.”

He found a Chinese menu and began dialing into his mobile. He didn’t know what he was going to order but if it ended this conversation, then he didn’t care if he continued making a fool of himself. At least it’s to a stranger he’d never have to meet.

Thorin grabbed the phone from him and ended the call. “Bilbo, talk to me.”

Talk? Talk! Eru, where did he start? He had been trying to seduce Thorin for weeks! You’d think eventually he’d take the hint. “I’ve been waiting and waiting,” Bilbo said. “And it’s okay if you want to wait, or maybe even don’t like sex, or – or – whatever your reasons, it’s okay, but. But I want to know if or when or if ever.”

Thorin stared at him in disbelief. “You think I don’t want to sleep with you?”

“Mahal, Thorin! What am I supposed to think?” Bilbo shouted. “I’ve walked around your flat without my damned pants on for weeks and you don’t even blink. You never let your hands wander further down than my waist. I’ve eaten so many bananas inappropriately around you that I’m pretty sure you think I actually eat them that way.”

He said it. He said all of it. He threw up all those horrible doubts and now he had left a stain on their relationship. He should have just kept his dumb mouth shut. Stupid, stupid.

Bilbo covered his face with his hands. “Just forget it, okay,” Bilbo mumbled. “I’m being dumb.”

Thorin leaned down over Bilbo and gently moved a hand away to get a look at him. “You’re not being dumb,” Thorin told him. “I didn’t know you felt this way, Bilbo.”

He didn’t know? Bilbo looked at Thorin, took in his red ears and the way his fingers were nervously tapping against his legs. Thorin was just as embarrassed as him, at least.

“I do,” Bilbo told him. “I thought maybe you wanted to take things slow, and that’s fine. But we’ve been dating for at least six months, and – a man has needs, Thorin. I just want to know where we stand on this. If you don’t like sex then that’s fine, at least I know what to expect. But right now, I’m in limbo, wondering and worrying and thinking maybe I’ve done something wrong.”

“I’m an idiot,” Thorin muttered, pacing about the living room. He stopped suddenly to hold onto Bilbo’s shoulders. “I do, most definitely, very much so, want to have sex with you.”

Oh. Oh! Good. Bilbo smiled up at him. “Really?”

“Really,” Thorin reassured him. “I don’t know why I didn’t pick up on your efforts – well that’s not true. I knew you were trying to seduce me.” Bilbo groaned. “I was scared, I think.”

“You think,” Bilbo repeated. “So, you don’t know.”

“Alright, I was scared,” Thorin admitted. “I am scared. Scared I might ruin this. And my fear almost ruined our whole relationship anyway.”

“It’s not ruined, you big idiot,” Bilbo said, wrapping his arms around him. Thorin cautiously held him in return. “We were both dumb.”

Thorin huffed into Bilbo’s curls, holding him tighter. Esmeralda was right, they just needed to talk it all out. This was good. Now that they established they did want to have sex with one another, maybe they could actually go through with the deed. Bilbo prayed that was the case.

“So are you still hungry?” Thorin asked.

Bilbo pulled away with a laugh. “Starving.”


End file.
